


Betrothed, Bothered and Bewildered - The Extended Cut

by dreadwolftakeme



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BFFs, Bisexuality, Cooking, Dream Sex, F/M, Hand Feeding, I'm Going to Hell, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sexual Conversations, Sleepy Sex, Spanking, Vaginal Sex, dominant cullen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:23:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadwolftakeme/pseuds/dreadwolftakeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a companion fic to Betrothed, Bothered and Bewildered - a series of drabbles and scenes that tie into and elaborate on chapters already posted. Mostly smut, so be warned!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nocturnal Imaginings of a Filthy Mind

Nocturnal Imaginings of a Filthy Mind

(ties in to Chapter XII – Double Standards)

 

 

 

“Get on your knees, Evelyn.”

Cullen’s voice was that perfect combination of authoritative and sensual and it glided over her like a physical caress. Maker, she was wet, dripping, so very desperate for him and he’d barely touched her. She did as he had asked, presenting herself on all fours on the bed in front of him. She couldn’t see him of course but she heard his sharp intake of breath, the little abortive groan that he tried so hard to conceal.

“Look at you,” he breathed. “You’re positively sodden. Have you missed my dick that much?”

Yes,” Evie moaned. “Maker Cullen, you have no idea…”

Tell me then,” he demanded in a growl. “Tell me how much you’ve dreamed of this cock. How many times have you fingered that tight little cunt, wishing it was me filling you?”

“Cullen,” Evie whined. “Please, I’ve ached for you for so long. Don’t make me wait any longer!”

“Mmm, eager little slut, isn’t she?” came a velvety voice from the top of the bed. Evie raised her head and took in the sight of Dorian sprawled against the pillows at the headboard. He looked stunning, his golden skin glistening with a fine sheet of sweat, his cock stiff and proud between his legs.

"She _does_ have quite the appetite," Cullen confirmed, a smirk apparent in his voice. "Would you like to see for yourself?"

"Oh no," smiled Dorian. "I am quite content to observe this little display. Though might I suggest you put her out of her misery?  I'm getting a little impatient myself.'

"Seeing as you asked so nicely," Cullen responded, with a wicked little chuckle. Evie felt him move behind her and then his hand was pressing between her shoulder blades, pushing her head down onto the sheets. If she glanced up, she could just about see Dorian, his cock in hand, biting his bottom lip as he touched himself leisurely.  She moaned hungrily at the sight.

"You have such a gorgeous cunt Evie," Cullen lauded from behind. "I wish you could see yourself, so wet and fucking ready for me."

He put his hands on her hips and lifted her ass right into the air. She felt the top of his nose nudge her folds and she whimpered, clawing at the sheets.

"Cullen please!" she begged. "I need you."

She felt him laugh against her, breath fluttering over her sensitive flesh, and she gasped. His tongue traced a long, lazy line up her seam. She keened, pushing herself backwards, eager for more contact. Cullen laughed again.

“Such a needy little quim,” he praised and he slapped her suddenly on the backside, making her yelp. “Lucky for you I’m feeling merciful,” he added, huskily. She felt his hands on her hips once more and then there he was, the blunt head of his erection pressing against her opening. Evie gasped, eyes widening, as he pushed himself slowly inside of her, inch by inch, clearly savouring every moment. Maker, how long had it been? She couldn’t recall the last time she felt so blissfully full, felt the pleasant burn of being stretched around his girth. She felt his balls nestling against her and let out a shaky sigh.

“Cullen,” she whimpered.

“Save your voice,” the Templar advised, tremulously. “You’re going to need it.”

It was all the warning she got before Culled drew back his hips, pulling almost entirely out of her body before slamming back in again. The bed jerked with the force of it and Evie cried out, her fingers fisting in the sheets. He did it again and then once more until he established a steady rhythm, pounding into her like a man possessed. Evie moaned with every thrust, her body reeling with pleasure. Somehow she managed to look up and she saw Dorian watching them with unbridled lust in his gaze, his hand working his cock to the tempo of their frantic fucking. He caught her eye and a salacious grin twisted his plump lips.

"You look so deliciously debauched, amicus," he praised, sounding breathless. "And here I thought you couldn't get any more delightful."

"How about you put her to good use, mage?" Cullen panted teasingly from behind.  "She's very good with that mouth. Don't tell me you're not a little intrigued."

Evie couldn't help the moan that escaped her at the thought of sucking on Dorian's beautiful prick. She looked up at him pleadingly and saw the interest dawning in his flint coloured eyes. 

"I must confess," he murmured, “it is a very tempting offer."

"Go on, Cullen urged, and he ground his hips on the next thrust, making Evie cry out in delight. "Do it," the Templar hissed. "Fuck that perfect little mouth."

Evie whined, pushing back as best as she could against Cullen’s brutal thrusts. Dorian was moving suddenly, inching towards her on his knees. Cullen removed the hand from her shoulders, wrapping it instead in her hair and pulling so that her back bowed and her face was lifted to the level of Dorian’s weeping cock.

"Open up, darling," he coaxed.  "Part those luscious lips for me."

Evie obeyed without hesitation, her tongue coming forth to lap at the salty fluid gathered on the tip of his erection. Then she sucked him in, tongue flattening, throat relaxing so she could swallow every last inch.  Dorian’s groan sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her body. She moaned in kind, making him buck slightly into her mouth.

“Ohhh, that is magnificent,” the Tevinter gasped, voice shaking. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Would I lie to you?” Cullen murmured, and he thrust in deep, surging forward over Evie’s body. Dorian leaned forward too and she could hear the hot, wet sounds of them kissing passionately above her. That she couldn’t see to watch was nothing short of torture and she moaned again. Dorian cradled the back of her head with one hand and he began to flex his hips, fucking her mouth in earnest. She felt another hand ghost over her belly, headed downwards and suddenly Cullen was teasing her clit, rubbing it and rolling the little nub between his fingers. Evie wailed around Dorian’s cock, felt him shudder with delight from the vibrations. She could barely think beyond the pleasure that was building within her. Cullen was screwing her with abandon, growling into Dorian’s kiss like an angry lion.

“Is she close?” she heard her fellow mage pant above her. Cullen responded with a rough pinch to Evie’s nub and she screamed around the dick in her mouth, making Dorian snarl.

“Oh yes, I’d say so,” the Templar purred. “Come on, Evie love. We’re both ready for you. Come for us, beautiful.”

His passionate command was hot beyond words but it was the gentle torture of her clit, the deep roll of Cullen’s hips inside of her that truly proved her undoing. She cried out in ecstasy, the sound muffled by Dorian’s pulsating cock, and her eyes screwed shut as her orgasm washed over her.

When she opened them next, she was alone. The bed she was lying on was not the Fereldan four-poster she’d been fucked on moments prior but the one she was sharing with Dorian in Carastes. Silk sheets were tangled around her clammy body. She was panting as though she’d run a great distance and her smallclothes were positively soaking beneath her nightgown. Groaning, Evie sat up in bed, trying hard not to let her thighs press against her oversensitive sex. Dorian’s side of the bed was already empty and for that she was eternally grateful; she did not need him to see her reeling from a dream where her best friend and her former lover had used her like a common street whore.

“Maker, I really need to get laid,” she groaned, scrubbing a hand down her face.

“What’s that, darling?”

Evie jumped as the door to the adjoining washroom opened and Dorian padded back into the room, his hair still ruffled and yawning sleepily.

“Nothing,” she muttered, and she tensed when he sat down on the bed and slid back into the sheets.

“Hmm, go back to sleep then,” he murmured, burrowing into his pillow. “It’s still disgustingly early.”

“Actually, I think I’ll get up,” Evie said, and she slid out of the bed, eager to put as much distance between them as possible – at least until she’d calmed down.

“Something wrong?” he asked. She saw him crack an eye open, regarding her with a drowsy sort of concern.

“Just a really weird dream,” she admitted. “No, not that sort of dream,” she assured him, when he sat up suddenly, frowning. “No demons,” she promised. “Just… weird. I don’t think I can go back to sleep now but don’t let me stop you. You were up late last night.”

“I was,” Dorian sighed in agreement, and he flopped back down onto the bed again, stretching out like a cat. “Alright,” he yawned. “Wake me in a couple of hours, will you? I want to bathe before Father drags me out later.”

“I can do that,” Evie promised, and she forced a smile, waiting for him to settle before she grabbed a robe and headed out of the room. There was a communal guest bathroom a little down the hall and she thought a cold bath would be just the thing to clear her head. Or maybe work out her frustration first. At least, with no Dorian sleeping in the next room, she wouldn’t have to be quiet…                                                                          


	2. Pleasure in Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Dorian sneak away from a party for a bit of fun.

Pleasure in Punishment

(Ties into Chapter XIII – Making Amends)

 

 

They left Evie in the ballroom, laughing and drinking with Magister Alexius and his cute son.

“She won’t miss us,” Maxwell promised, winking back at Dorian as he dragged him along the corridor. “Come on, it’s just a little further.”

“Could you not just have told me where to meet you?” the Tevinter grumbled. “This is highly suspect, if anyone were to see us-”

“They won’t,” assured Max, as soothingly as he could. “I was careful, I promise.”

“That remains to be seen,” Dorian muttered, but he followed all the same. Maxwell imagined he knew why. They’d been shooting each other glances all evening and, if Dorian was anything like him, he simply couldn’t take it anymore. It didn’t help that he was looking exceptionally dapper this evening, either, and those stately robes just begged to be messed up a bit.

“Right, in here,” Max murmured, opening a door and pulling Dorian inside.

“The library?” the mage murmured, as Max locked to door behind them. “Was there a particular reason you chose this room, amatus?”

Maxwell grinned, biting his lip and looking his lover up and down slowly. “Oh yes,” he purred. “There is, as it happens. Do you see that chair over there?”

He nodded to a high-backed, throne-like chair in a corner, a handsome thing of mahogany and plush bottle-green velvet.

“I do,” replied Dorian. “What about it?”

“It’s been on my mind all evening,” Max confessed, and he took a step closer to his lover, close enough to touch but not quite doing so. He saw the way it made Dorian tense and he smirked, starting to circle the other man. “All night long you’ve been skirting in and out of my presence, teasing me with your sultry pouts and lingering glances. And all night long, all I could think about was dragging you in here, bending you over that chair and spanking that sweet, glorious arse of yours.” He smirked and he saw Dorian swallow, his eyes darkening with interest, and his pulse began to quicken. “So how about it, love?” he went on, sidling up behind his lover and slipping his arms around the man’s waist. “If you admit you’ve been bad I might go easier on you.” He pressed a kiss to Dorian’s throat and felt the shudder that ran through the man’s entire body.

“Yes,” the mage whispered, leaning into Max’s lips.

“What was that, love?” Max uttered, sweetly. “Are you confessing?”

“Yes, I confess,” said Dorian breathlessly. “I’ve been very bad and I deserve to be punished.”

“Good,” Max praised and he kissed Dorian again, nibbling lightly on a tendon in his neck and making the mage groan. “That you’ve admitted it is the first step.”

“And what now, amatus?” Dorian breathed. Max smiled his sweetest smile and he breezed past his lover to settle down in the chair. His heart was racing with excitement as he beckoned Dorian over, watching the man’s every slow and sensual step.

“Unbutton your breeches and bend over my knee,” Max commanded. The Tevinter licked his lips and he obeyed, placing himself cautiously over Max’s lap. He was already half hard, much to Max’s delight, and the rogue rubbed his thigh teasingly against the growing erection. “Look at you,” he praised, as Dorian panted at the friction. “So eager and I’ve barely even started.”

“You’d better hurry,” the mage growled, and Max chuckled.

“So impatient for your punishment, love,” he sighed, airily. “Perhaps I’m not being strict enough.” With one hand, he shucked down Dorian’s breeches and smallclothes just enough to expose his backside. A rush of air left his lungs. The sight of Dorian’s bare arse always did things to him and he felt his own cock stir hungrily. “Maker, this ass is beyond perfection,” he praised, palming the muscular, golden flesh with his hands and squeezing greedily. “I can’t wait to see it glowing pink from my attentions.”

“Maxwell,” Dorian moaned, and he rolled his lips, grinding against his lover’s leg. Max frowned.

“Less of that,” he chastised, giving the Tevinter’s backside a light, reprimanding smack and making him gasp. “This is meant to be a punishment, remember? Now, seeing as you did confess, I think we’ll only count to ten. How does that sound, love?”

“Go ahead,” Dorian agreed. “Though you’d better not leave any permanent marks!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” smirked Max and, without warning, he brought down his open palm on Dorian’s buttocks with a firm, ringing slap. The mage grunted with surprise but he did not cry out. Max took a moment to marvel at the faint pink mark his hand had left behind then rained down another two blows in rapid succession. Dorian gasped upon the third. Max smirked.

“What a pretty blush,” the rogue purred, taking a moment to caress his lover’s arse. He drew a single finger along the crack and hummed with delight upon discovering the opening slick and ready. “You prepared yourself for me,” Max exclaimed, in gleeful surprise.

“I know how impatient you are,” Dorian murmured, moaning when Max pushed the tip of his finger inside. He let it sink in to the second knuckle, massaging in a slow, circular motion until his lover was writhing. He could feel Dorian’s stiff cock rubbing against his thigh and he knew it must have been torture. Grinning wickedly, he removed his finger, drinking in Dorian’s groan of disappointment.

“Not nice to be teased, is it love?” Max smirked and he smacked Dorian’s backside again and again and a third time. The mage cried out as Max’s hand made contact with his skin and the rogue could only imagine that his lover’s ass stung as much as his palm did. The skin was glowing bright pink now. Max groaned at the sight, his own cock twitching eagerly, and he leaned forward to rain kisses down upon Dorian’s abused flesh. “I wish you could see yourself,” he praised, kissing and licking gently at the glowing skin. Dorian squirmed in Max’s lap, panting, groaning when Max’s finger sunk into him once more. He crooked it just right, brushing that spot within that made the Tevinter moan loudly.

“Maxwell,” Dorian gasped, his back arching, hips bucking against Max’s lap. Maker, he was so hard. Max bit his lip against the desire in his own belly, working his finger deep inside his lover until his cries became needy. Then he removed it entirely once more. Dorian barely had time to howl in frustration before the hand came down upon his arse again. There was a second blow, harder than the first, and Dorian actually yelped, jolting forward in Max’s lap. The rogue gave him no respite this time, roughly driving two fingers deep into Dorian’s hole without warning. The mage bucked, almost sobbing with delight and pushing back greedily against the instruction. Max working him mercilessly, nudging his sweet spot, watching with hooded eyes as the beauty in his lap began to unravel. Dorian was murmuring in broken Tevene, his face as flushed as his arse. He rubbed himself shamelessly against Max’s lap and the rogue had to wonder if he could get off like that, rutting against another man’s thigh. He wasn’t about to find out, though, not today. Max worked Dorian right up to the very precipice of orgasm, let him dangle over the edge, before snatching it away.

“No!” the Tevinter wailed. “Max, please!”

He cried out as Max slapped him hard on the buttocks again,

“One more beautiful,” Max murmured. “One more and I’ll make you come.”

He brought down his hand a final time, relishing the burn in his palm and the gorgeous red hand prints decorating his lover’s ass. Dorian shouted so loudly Max thought he _had_ come, hips jerking with the force. Then he was moving like a man possessed, sitting up, shoving Max roughly against the back of the chair. His hands went straight to Max’s breeches and he ripped off a button in his haste to get them open. The rogue hissed as his erection was freed and then Dorian was straddling him, lining himself up over Max’s throbbing cock. Max felt the heat at his tip and then he groaned loudly, feeling Dorian’s hot flesh swallow him inch by inch. Dorian moaned, lips parted, head thrown back in ecstasy.  

“Fuck!” Max breathed. "Dorian..."

The Tevinter braced himself on Max's shoulders and he began to ride him,  raising himself up and impaling himself over and over.  The sounds that escaped him were some of the sexiest Maxwell had ever heard.  The rogue reached into the front of his lover's silky smalls and grasped his dick, jerking him off in time to their fucking. 

"Faster," Dorian panted. "Venhedis, I'm so close!"

Max obeyed, adding a slight twist and rubbing his thumb over the slick head of Dorian's cock. The mage whined and bucked into the friction. Max could feel him tensing, the muscles around his cock flexing deliciously.  A loud cry escaped Dorian's lips and then he was coming, spurting hot, thick liquid over Max's hand and into his smalls. Max watched, amazed, his own pleasure coiling tightly in his belly.  He had never seen a more stunning sight in his life than Dorian in throes of orgasm. His eyes were screwed shut, his skin glowing with a fine sheen of sweat. He was whimpering at the prolonged contact and Max took that as his cue to release his cock. Cum coated his fingers and he sucked them clean before wrapping them around Dorian’s waist. The man was barely moving now, adrift in a sea of pleasure. Maxwell seized control and he ground up into his lover, moaning at the sweet, blissful friction. He took him selfishly, desperately chasing his own completion. Dorian collapsed against Max’s chest, gasping at what was no doubt an overload of sensation, and Max managed to place a few shaky kisses on his shoulder. He fucked Dorian without mercy, unravelling fast. He nudged the mage’s sweet spot once more and, when the man clenched, Max lost himself. He shouted Dorian’s name as he came, spilling into him in long, hot spurts. Dorian was moaning again in his ear. He whispered something in Tevene and Maxwell held him tight. The instinctive jerking of his lips slowed until they were both a sweating, panting mess in each other’s laps.

“I’m not usually one for such games,” Dorian murmured lazily, when he’d recovered his faculties a little. “That, however, was delightful.”

“Are you sore?” asked Max, softly.

“It smarts a bit,” the mage admitted. “But I rather like it. I can always ask Evie to heal it later if needs must,” he added, with a wicked grin.

“Maker’s balls, could you not bring up my sister when I have my dick in you,” Max groaned, as his lover chuckled with dark amusement. “Speaking of which…” He shifted his hips slightly and Dorian got the hint, raising up on his knees until Max’s cock slid out of him. They both moaned at the friction and the subsequent trickle of fluid soaked Dorian’s smalls.

“Well, I think those are ruined.” Max smirked. “Unless you want to head back in there smelling like a Wintersend orgy?”

“I can go without,” smiled Dorian. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Teasing again,” Max sighed, and he pinched the still-flushed skin on Dorian’s arse, making him hiss. “You don’t learn, do you?”

“Perhaps I simply enjoy the retribution, amatus,” the mage purred and he pulled Max in for a long, languid kiss. “Now, let’s hurry and dress, shall we? It would not do for the good Senator to come by and see us like this.”

“I don’t think he’d complain,” winked Max. 


	3. Bathing and Banter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie and Dorian discuss their first times.

III

Bathing and Banter

(ties into Chapter XV - Parting of Ways)

 

 

Their proximity to the river was easily the highlight of Evelyn’s day. After they’d finished their dinner – a strange game stew that she’d never encountered before – she insisted on dragging a reluctant Dorian down to the water to bathe.

“I don’t know how you can consider bathing in a river clean,” he grumbled. “It’s full of disgusting animals, for a start.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” Evie reminded him. “Just because I’m travelling with a bunch of men, doesn’t mean I have to smell like one.”

“Speak for yourself,” the Tevinter sniffed but he didn’t argue with her further.

The river was at the bottom on a slight slope from where they were stopped. Evie left Dorian at the top at his insistence – “I’ll catch up, I have to take a piss” – and bounded down to the water’s edge gleefully. It was deep and clear and Evie kicked off her slippers and hitched up her skirts, dipping her feet in to test it.

“It’s almost warm!” she cried, gleefully. “Dorian come on!”

“Alright, alright,” her fellow mage called from the top of the embankment. “Give me a minute, will you?”

He joined her a few moments later, striding down the slope with one hand rubbing at his middle.

“Eurgh,” he groaned, dropping down onto a rock a few feet away from the water’s edge. “That hideous dwarven ale does not agree with me.”

“No one forced you to drink it,” Evie reminded him, as he suppressed a belch behind his hand.

“The wine was no better,” he sighed. Evie chuckled and she began to unlace her gown, lifting the delicate garment over her head and tossing out of the way of the water.

“Keep an eye out will you?” she asked her friend. “I’d rather no-one else saw this.” Her breast-band was next to go and she crouched down by the edge of the river in nothing but her smalls. The water was just shy of being warm and she hummed with delight as she splashed it over her skin.  “Are you really not going to take advantage of this?” she asked.

“I’ll pass, thank you,” was Dorian’s wry response. He turned slightly where he sat and Evie saw his eyes rake curiously over her body. “Do those not get in your way?” he asked, gaze lingering on her chest. Evie laughed.

“I could ask you a similar question,” she winked and he snorted with amusement, the closest he’d come to laughter in hours.

“You learn to accommodate,” he smirked.

She grinned at that. A cool breeze was blowing in from the East and chilling her damp skin. Evie decided she might as well go all the way and she slipped off her underwear, tossing them onto the pile of her clothing. The water was deep a few feet from the bank and she waded right in, giggling as it lapped at her waist.

“Savage,” Dorian accused, light-heartedly.

“Says the man who just peed in a bush,” she retorted.

“Please, don’t remind me,” he sighed. “The sooner we get back to civilisation to the better. I fear your barbarian ways are rubbing off on me.”

Evelyn simply smiled, knowing better than to take his griping to heart. She turned her back to him as she cleaned herself, not that she needed to; he was hardly going to be ogling her.

“Dorian,” she began pensively, voicing something she’d wondered for a while.

“Hm?”

“How old were you when you realised you liked boys?” she asked. Dorian swivelled around on his makeshift seat, favouring her with a thoughtful look.

“Young,” he replied, after a moment’s contemplation. “About ten or eleven, I’d say. When the other boys were just beginning to notice girls, I was beginning to notice the other boys.”

He winked jauntily and Evie laughed, leaning against a rock in the water and kicking her legs out absently.

“What about when you first had sex?”

He chuckled at that, his grey eyes bright with amusement. “My, aren’t you inquisitive this evening,” he exclaimed. He didn’t seem displeased, however. On the contrary, he appeared to enjoy having a rapt audience. “Let’s see,” he mused, drumming his fingers thoughtfully against his lower lip. “My first time having actual sex I was fourteen. I was already very proficient in other areas by that point.”

“Other areas?” Evie asked, bouncing her eyebrows. Her fellow mage laughed.

“With my hands and my mouth, as if you didn’t know,” he smirked. “Little minx.”

“What was it like?”

“As far as first times go, not too bad,” Dorian admitted. “I managed to lure one of the other boys from the Circle into an empty classroom. He was a little older than I was but not really more experienced and he didn’t spend enough time preparing me. It was uncomfortable at first and I didn’t finish. Though he did make up for that afterwards,” he added, with a grin. “Very talented mouth, that one.”

“Hmm, what about the first time you topped?” Evie asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Assuming you have topped, of course.”

“Ah, not so fast, amicus,” the Tevinter chided, gleefully. “One thing at a time. Seeing as we are so intimately discussing my sex life, it seems only fair that I get to quiz you on yours, yes?”

“Tit for tat?” Evie responded, mulling it over. “Alright then. What do you want to know?”

Dorian made a show of thinking it over before he spoke. “Tell me about your first time,” he demanded. “How old were you?”

“First time actual penetrative sex?” she asked for clarification and he nodded, grinning wickedly. “Sixteen,” she admitted. “It really wasn’t a great experience. I was in the library with one of the other apprentices and he pushed me up against one of the bookcases to make out and one thing led to another…”

“In the library?” Dorian gasped, and he seemed delighted. “How scandalous!”

“Yes, well, it wasn’t good,” Evelyn murmured. “He was rough and discourteous and it actually put me off for a long time.”

“That’s unfortunate,” said Dorian, sympathetically.

“It was. Luckily the next guy was much nicer. He took his time with me, showed it didn’t have to be a hurried disaster in some cloistered corner.”

“Sounds like an older man,” Dorian commented, with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

“He was,” Evie smiled. “About a decade older, actually.”

Dorian gave her a lewd smirk, making her laugh, and he leaned forward where he sat, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms.

“So what about before then?” he asked, and he seemed quite eager now, waiting impatiently for her answer. “Tell me about your earlier encounters.”

“I thought this was a like for like arrangement,” she protested.

“Indeed it is,” Dorian agreed. “But considering I answered two of your questions, I should get a second myself.”

“Fair enough,” Evie shrugged. She bit her lip, thinking back to her earliest sexual encounters in the Circle. “Honestly,” she admitted, “most of them were with other girls.”

She expected Dorian wouldn’t be particularly interested in hearing about those but on the contrary, his eyes widened with nothing short of glee.

“Evelyn Trevelyan, you surprise me!” he declared, obviously delighted. “I never expected you’d be quite so kinky.”

“Don’t tell me you fell for the innocent look too?” Evie laughed. “Maker, I’m better than I thought.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dorian chuckled. “But we’re digressing. Tell me about these girls of your wayward youth.”

“I’d hardly call my youth ‘wayward’, Dorian. But, as you asked… well, I don’t know what your Tevinter Circles are like but in the Free Marches, the Templars kept us under a pretty strict regime, younger ones especially. Common areas were guarded. Males and females were separated when sleeping and bathing, an attempt to keep fraternisation to a minimum. It happened, of course, as I’ve just illustrated. But they seemed to let their guard down around groups of the same sex. In hindsight, perhaps they shouldn’t have.” She smirked to herself as she remembered. “They made it hard work for the boys and girls to get a quiet moment together so… we turned to each other. My first kiss was with a girl. My first sexual experience was in the bath house, pushed up against the tiles, another girl’s face between my legs. I can’t even remember her name - is that terrible?”

“Of course not,” the Tevinter smiled, with surprising softness. “There have been plenty of occasions where I never thought to even ask. You’re not alone in that respect. Tell me… were these encounters merely adolescent experimentation or are you still attracted to women?”

“Occasionally,” she admitted. “It’s not an equal thing, exactly.”

“Just when I thought I had you figured out,” Dorian smiled, shaking his head.

A shout from up the embankment made them both jump. Evie shrank down into the water, trying to preserves her modesty from any prying eyes, but there was no one there.

“Perhaps it’s time to head back to camp,” Dorian suggested, getting to his feet with a groan. “You must be getting chilly by now, surely?”

Her towel lay in heap next to her clothing and the Tevinter picked it up, holding it out for her. Evelyn beamed and, after a quick glance around to ensure there were no peeping Toms, she rose out of the water, and wrapped the towel around her body. The air was cold now that she was wet and the tiny pebbles that formed the river bank stuck to her feet. She pulled a face.

“I’m starting to think you’re right,” she grumbled. “This is no way to bathe.”

Dorian snickered. “Of course I’m right,” he grinned. “I’m always right. Now hurry and get dressed. I fancy a glass of wine or two before we go to bed.”

“You said it was awful!” Evie exclaimed.

“It’s still wine,” the mage shrugged, as though this should have been blatantly obvious. “A man has needs, you know.”

Evie could only laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, most, but not all, will be smut. Have some friendship fluff instead. ^_^
> 
> Cookies for the person who spots the Mulan reference.


	4. Midnight Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is awake. Max isn't. The mage decides to remedy that, in a very interesting way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a little Maxwell x Dorian smuff. Just because.

IV

Midnight Feast

(Ties into Chapter XVI – Lonely hearts)

 

 

Dorian padded back into the bedroom, closing the washroom door behind him. The light of the moon was filtering in through a gap in the curtains, an indication of the absurdly late - or early - hour. The Tevinter yawned and headed back over to the bed where his lover was still sleeping soundly.

Maker, the man was gorgeous when he was asleep. He was gorgeous all the time, of course, but like this, Dorian could really take the time to admire him. He was lying on his back, one arm tucked under the pillow and his head turned to face the room. His shoulder length hair was free of its usual tie and spilling in tousled waves about his neck. Dorian liked Max’s hair down. He liked to run his fingers through it, to tug on it gently as they were kissing by means of subtle direction.

He recalled the night they’d met. Max had been wearing it down then – a rarity in public, as he’d later learned. He’d been sitting with an attractive young woman at the time but the moment Dorian had caught his eye, Max seemed to lose all interest in her. It wasn’t long until the Marcher had wandered over with a fresh bottle of wine and a jaunty smirk (that may or may not have had his heart racing like a schoolboy with a crush). A few glasses in they were flirting. A couple more and Dorian was following the man upstairs, their lips locked from the moment they’d stepped in his room. It made him smile to remember it. He’d had no idea then that ‘Carter’ would turn out to be more than a convenient lay… so very much more.

The mage perched on the edge of the bed beside his sleeping lover. Even in slumber, he found he was drawn to him and he couldn’t resist placing a gentle kiss to his slightly parted lips. Then on his chin. Another on his neck. Before he’d even thought about what he was really doing, Dorian had moved to straddle Max’s thighs and he was kissing a line down the sleeping man’s chest. Max squirmed slightly at the sensation but he didn’t wake. Grinning, Dorian began to wonder how far he could go before his lover woke up. He continued his trail of kisses down over Max’s stomach, gently peeling back the sheet that covered him as he went. When he got to the crotch, he veered off to the side, kissing and nibbling his way down the man’s right thigh. That seemed to get more of a reaction but still Maxwell didn’t wake, merely humming and flexing his hips in his sleep. His soft cock began to twitch with interest and, smirking, Dorian wrapped his hand around it, feeling it stiffen. The mage stroked gently, his free hand snaking below to delicately tease at Max’s sac. Max was muttering now and making little sleepy sounds of pleasure that had Dorian hardening in kind. When his lover’s prick was stiff enough, Dorian leaned in and wrapped his lips around the shaft. That earned him a proper moan and suddenly, Max’s eyes were open, blinking blearily down his body with nothing short of wonder.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dorian smirked, pulling away. “Did I wake you?”

“You did but I’m certainly not sorry,” Max replied, and his drowsy mumble was simply adorable.

“Do you want me to stop?” asked Dorian innocently, and he licked a long line up the length of Max’s erection, earning himself another moan.

“Do I fuck,” Max sighed. “Though… I do have a request?”

“Name it,” purred Dorian.

“I want to suck you off too.”

That came as a surprise to the Tevinter but it was hardly an unpleasant one. Smirking, he crawled up his side of the bed and positioned himself so he was kneeling backwards over Max’s face.

“Like this?” he grinned and he could feel as much as hear Max’s groan of delight.

“Fuck, yes,” the Marcher hissed. “That is the best damned view in all of Thedas.”

It was Dorian’s turn to moan as his lover surged up without warning, wrapping his lips around his sac and drawing the testicles gently into his mouth. The mages back arched and he cried out at the sheer sensation of it.

“Maxwell, amatus,” he gasped. “Too much! I’ll come!”

Max actually managed to chuckle, which made Dorian wail until he was carefully released.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” His voice was deliciously husky with arousal and it made Dorian quiver, his cock throbbing with want. Keen to return the favour, he leant forward over Max’s body, bracing himself with his elbows either side of his lover’s hips. One hand wrapped around Max’s now very swollen prick and he sucked on the tip, relishing the salty taste of the precum that had gathered there. Maxwell cursed and then he was sucking too, making Dorian moan around the cock in his mouth. It was a delicious cycle of reactions – of sucking and moaning and pleasure. Dorian found it hard to maintain his usual technique when he was being pleasured himself but he was determined to try. He ran his tongue along the underside of Max’s shaft, swirling it sloppily around the weeping tip. Max seemed to be enjoying it, humming delightedly around Dorian’s erection and making the mage moan in turn. Their position was not an easy one to maintain but it had its benefits. Maxwell certainly made the most of his vantage point, slipping a slick finger between Dorian’s legs and gently rubbing the sensitive spot right behind his scrotum. Dorian shouted at the sudden flare of sensation, his hips bucking involuntarily. He could feel Maxwell chuckling around his cock. It was maddening, pushing him right up close to edge of ecstasy. He retaliated by hollowing his cheeks and taking his lover’s prick right to the back of his throat. Max grunted then and the hand on Dorian’s backside grasped tightly. He continued his delicate assault on Dorian’s perineum and unsurprisingly, it was the mage who came first, moaning around the cock in his mouth. Max followed seconds later, filling Dorian’s mouth with more cum than he could handle. He pulled away, swallowing hastily, but even then it managed to trickle out of the corners of his mouth and down his chin. Max was still moaning around his now oversensitive erection and he had to beg him to stop.

“Amatus, please,” he gasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Stop, it’s too much!”

For once, one Max took pity on him and he released his cock, gasping for air.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he panted. “Maker, Dorian, I could suck your dick all day.”

“Tempting, amatus,” the Tevinter joked, and he rolled off his lover, flopping bonelessly at his side. “I can’t imagine I’d get much done, though.”

He glanced blearily across at the man beside him. Max always looked so delicious in his post-orgasmic state – hair artfully dishevelled, skin glistening with sweat, emerald eyes bright and sparkling. Dorian was sure he did it on purpose to keep him coming back for more, though he had to admit he was done for the night. The two times before falling asleep and that glorious little cinch just now… he could only take so much.

“Do you even sleep in here when I’m not around?” Max asked, pulling Dorian in close to his side. The mage laid a palm over his lover’s well-toned chest, feeling his heartbeat slowly returning to normal.

“Not usually,” he admitted. “Why?” he asked and he looked up at Max’s face. “Does it bother you? I’ll stop if it does.”

“That depends,” Max chuckled. “Do you wake her up like you just did me?”

“Of course not!” Dorian scoffed.

“Then I don’t mind at all, love. In fact, I’m kind of glad you’re looking out for her.”

The Tevinter smiled at that and he pressed a delicate kiss to his lover’s chest. It pleased him that Max didn’t mind his closeness with Evie; clearly he was very secure in himself. If he were honest, Dorian wasn’t sure he’d be so blasé about it if the tables were turned (if Dorian had had a sister, of course). Then again, Dorian had no interest in bedding a woman in anyway other than to sleep. Max, on the other hand… He knew from conversations with Evie that Maxwell had a healthy appetite for both genders. Maker, had he not been chatting up a woman the night they’d met? It occasionally made Dorian rather uncomfortable, knowing his lover had a whole other set of sexual criteria that he could never hope to fill.

“Max, do you miss women when you’re with a man?” He voiced the question as casually as he could, trailing a finger back and forth across Max’s lips and pointedly not looking at him.

“Not really,” Max shrugged. It wasn’t quite the answer Dorian had wanted to hear. A little chill skittered over his flesh and he felt his heart thump a touch faster in panic.

“Not really,” he repeated. “What does that mean, exactly?”

To his surprise, and mild annoyance, Maxwell laughed, cupping Dorian’s chin and forcing him to meet his eyes.

“You’re fretting, aren’t you?” he chuckled and Dorian bristled defensively

“Fret? I?” he sniffed. “Over what, exactly? What have I to worry about?”

It was a bluff, of course. He was fretting and Max knew it, Maker take him.

“Don’t think I don’t know your tells by now, Pavus,” the rogue grinned. “You’re fretting and it’s adorable. Not necessary, though. I get different things from different genders, true, but I do not need both to be happy.”

That was more like it and Dorian gave a small smile that might have been described as hopeful.

“So you’re not going to wake up one morning with an incurable craving for tits?” he asked, making Maxwell laugh again.

“Well, I _do_ like tits,” he teased, “but no, absolutely not. Truth be told, I prefer sex with men anyway. It’s more intense, more fulfilling. Especially with gorgeous Tevinter mages. Definitely my favourite.”

He winked down at Dorian then, gently pinching his bum.

“Really?” Dorian drawled. “Any old Tevinter mage will do?”

“Oh no, I have very exacting standards,” Max replied, matter-of-factly. “He’d have to be handsome. Clever. Wickedly witty and charming beyond all belief. Almost too good to be true, really.” He leaned down for a kiss and Dorian happily indulged him, his heart swelling just as much as his ego.


	5. Food for Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Evie catch up over a makeshift dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little bit I cut out of the last chapter. 
> 
> Although... I appear to have touched on a Cullen-based feeding kink. hmm. Something to explore, perhaps? ;) 
> 
> NB - I don't speak a word of Latin. Google did it for me.

V

Food for Thought 

 (Ties into Chapter XXI – Kiss and Make Up)

 

 

Evie had had to use her magic to open the door upon her return, so laden were her hands with food and drink. Cullen was up from the bed and, much to her delight, every bit as naked as he’d been when she left. He was wandering interestedly around the room, inspecting the furnishings with an expression of undisguised astonishment.

“This place is incredible,” he commented, as Evie set her trays down on the bed and went to join him.

“Dorian’s family have one redeeming quality bar their son,” she smirked. “They are ridiculously wealthy.”

“I can’t say I ever pictured you as a kept woman,” he said and the slight smirk on his lips told her he was teasing.

“Really? Never?” she teased in kind, sidling up close, pressing herself to his front. “Because I seem to remember you saying something about tying me to your bed and keeping me as your… now, what was it?”

She knew the answer, of course, and judging by the way Cullen’s eyes darkened, so did he.

“Maker’s breath, woman,” he groaned. “Do you remember every little thing I say in the heat of the moment?”

“I try to,” she grinned. “The idea of being kept as the Knight-Commander’s little sex slave was a particularly scrumptious one.”

Cullen sigh and his arms circled her trim waist, pulling her closer. “You’re going to get me hard again,” he warned her. Evie giggled.

“Good,” she said defiantly. “Though, perhaps it’s best we have something to eat first. I can feel your belly rumbling from here.”

Cullen flushed just a little but he didn’t complain as Evie led him to the bed and had him settle himself against the pillows. He insisted on covering himself, much to Evie’s dismay, draping a sheet around his waist in some semblance of modesty. Evie perched beside him, deciding not to take off her gown seeing as he was being stingy. She picked up a platter of her own handmade goats cheese and onion tarts and, beaming, she offered one to her lover.

“What, are you going to feed me by hand?” he chuckled, and his amber eyes were bright and alive and so very beautiful. Evie nodded, her smile unfaltering, and she pressed the morsel to his lips. Laughing, Cullen parted his lips and took a tentative bite. His eyes widened and he groaned with approval.

“They’re fantastic,” he praised and he leaned in for another bite.

“I’m glad you think so,” she said. “I made them myself.”

Cullen raised a brow and he hastily swallowed the food in his mouth.

“You cooked these?” he exclaimed. “Really?”

“It gets a little dull being stuck in the house all day, even a house as nice as this one,” Evie shrugged. “I had to do something with my time and the kitchen staff are lovely, they’ve been more than happy to teach me what they know.”

Cullen smiled at that, a soft thing that curved one side of his mouth and made Evie’s heart flutter in her chest. 

“You never cease to surprise me,” he murmured, admiringly. “What else have you been doing since you got here?”

Evie blushed and she picked up another tart, letting him bite into it with a moan of delight.

“Well, let’s see,” she began, thoughtfully. “I’ve been learning Tevene, a handy skill as you can imagine. Listen: _culus tuus mihi placet_.”

Cullen chuckled with his mouth full.

“And what does that mean?” he asked, the moment he could speak again.

“It means _I like your arse_ ,” Evie replied with a wink and she laughed when he shook his head, embarrassed but clearly pleased.

“What else?” he pressed, and he let her cram the rest of the tart into his mouth, licking the crumbs off her fingers. A little twinge of arousal made her press thighs together. Maker, why was it so sexy when he did it?

“Well,” she began, setting down the platter of tarts and reaching for the pitcher of ale, “a friend of Dorian’s, Magister Alexius, he managed to find someone to complete my Knight Enchanter training.”

She poured him a hearty measure and handed him the mug, only find him beaming at her.

“Evie, that’s brilliant,” he exclaimed. “I was so proud of you the day you took up the Knight Enchanter’s path. It pleases me to know it shan’t go to waste.”

He kissed her on the forehead, light and achingly tender.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re too kind.”

“Just honest,” Cullen smiled and he captured her lips, kissing her just long enough to spark her interest and then pulling away again. Evie hummed and the twinkle in his eyes, the slight smirk on his lips as he reached for his mug, told her it was quite deliberate. She watched him take a long drink, fascinated by the way the muscles in his throat moved as he swallowed.

“Maker, that’s heavenly!” he gasped, when he eventually lowered his mug. “It was impossible to find decent beer out on the road. The Tevinters seem to favour their wine.”

“It’s easier to come by in the cities,” Evie explained. “Especially this one. Minrathous has a huge dwarven population.”

“I won’t lie, it’s the one thing I’ve always missed when out in the field,” he murmured, and he drained the mug. Evie was only too happy to refill it for him; very interesting things tended to happen when Cullen loosened up over a few pints of ale.

“So, tell me about Ostwick,” she asked innocently, as she scanned the trays of food for her next delicacy. Her eyes fell on the miniature game parcels and she picked them up next. “Any insidious rumours about my disappearance?”

“Nothing I wasn’t quick to silence,” Cullen murmured, and he took a bite of the proffered morsel. “Mmm, good,” he declared, thickly. “Though, they weren’t given much time to dwell on it given what happened at Kirkwall.”

“Why?” Evie frowned, as she poured a glass of wine for herself. “What happened at Kirkwall?”

Cullen seemed genuinely surprised.

“What, you haven’t heard?” he asked. Evie shook her head and he suddenly looked rather distressed.

“It was awful,” he murmured. “An apostate blew up the Kirkwall chantry in the name of mage freedom. The Knight Commander there went crazy, tried to have the entire Circle annulled so he rallied the mages into a revolt. It was an absolute bloodbath. Barely any left on either side and the ones that did survive escaped.”

Evie clapped her hands to her mouth. “That’s terrible!” she cried. “The Chantry, Maker, were people in it?”

“It was night,” sighed Cullen, “so not too many but yes. The Grand Cleric was killed.”

“Oh that’s awful,” she breathed. “Cullen, I’m so sorry. I knew you had a couple of friends in Kirkwall.”

“Thank you,” he uttered. “The worst part of it is it’s caused a lot of unrest in the Circles. Something’s going to have to be done. To be frank, I’m rather glad I got out when I did.”

“Would it be blatantly obvious and syrupy if I told you I am too?” Evie inched a little closer to him, giving him her very best puppy eyes. He smiled warmly.

“Perhaps a little,” he admitted. “But I’m not about to complain. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, my love,” she whispered and she leaned in at that, pressing her lips against his own. It was a gentle, adoring sort of kiss, the kind that made Evie feel as though she were floating. When she pulled away and peeked at Cullen through her lashes, she found him watching her, his caramel-coloured eyes bright with some unnamed emotion.

“Promise me,” he entreated, “Promise that whatever happens, we’ll stay together. I don’t care about threats on my life or stains on my honour. You’re worth all of that and more. I just want the chance to be with you, Evelyn.”

“I promise,” she smiled. He beamed and set down his ale at that. He pulled Evie into his lap and proceeded to thoroughly and expertly claim her lips, pushing her down onto the mattress beneath them. The sheet around his waist fell away and Evie’s eyes widened at the sight of his manhood stiffening once more.

“I think the food can wait a little while, don’t you?” he smirked. “There’s only one thing I’m hungry for at the moment.”

Evie wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of her. She was only too happy to indulge his more figurative appetites.


	6. In Sickness and in Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Dorian discuss the L Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> or, "In Which Maxwell Pulls a Flynn Rider"

VI

In Sickness and in Health

(Ties in Chapter XXIII – Green-Eyed Monster)

 

 

Maxwell bid his sister a gentle goodnight, closing the door softly behind her. Heaving a weary sigh, he turned to his lover, who was lying half-asleep on the bed. Evie had done everything she could and, after almost an hour, she’d managed to ease Dorian’s pain. He seemed mostly recovered, although understandably exhausted, and he smiled drowsily as Maxwell approached.

“She’s a sweetheart, that girl,” he murmured. “Didn’t have to keep at it as long as she did.”

“She adores you,” smiled Maxwell. “I expected nothing less. How are you feeling now?”

“Tired,” the Tevinter admitted. “A little embarrassed, truth be told. And Maker only knows how terrible my hair must look right now.”

Max chuckled and crawled onto the bed, sitting himself at Dorian’s side.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he reassured him. “It happens to everyone at some point. And as for your hair, I wouldn’t worry about it. You look gorgeous. Always.”

“The things you say,” Dorian chuckled.

“I mean it,” Max insisted. “I’d jump you right now if I thought you were in any condition for a bit of fun.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” the mage winced. “I can still taste the bile in my mouth…”

“Want me to send for some of that peppermint tea you like so much?” asked Maxwell, and he cupped Dorian’s cheek, running his thumb along the elegant arch of his cheekbone.

“Mmm, that might be nice actually.”

Max smiled and he slipped off the bed, heading for the pull-cord by the door that would ring for a servant.

“Do you want anything to eat?” he asked. “You must be hungry.”

“Eurgh, no thank you,” Dorian groaned. “I’ve spent the last hour emptying my stomach, I’ve no desire to fill it again in a hurry.”

“Alright,” Max murmured, narrowing his eyes. “Just promise me you’ll try a little something in the morning?”

“You’re fussing, amatus,” Dorian chided, though only lightly. “But if it pleases you so, then I promise.”

Maxwell smiled. There was a gentle knock on the door and the rogue opened it so see Loretta, the pretty elven housemaid, standing outside in the corridor. She blushed as she met his eyes, curtseying respectfully.

“Lord Trevelyan,” she breathed. “What can I do for you?”

“We’d like some peppermint tea sent up, if you please,” Max requested. “And a fresh pitcher of water.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Loretta beamed. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

And she scurried off, her blonde curls bouncing in her haste.

“Maker, what do you do to my servants?” Dorian grumbled, as Maxwell closed the door after her. “I swear, they fall all over themselves around you, it’s quite tiresome.”

“I can’t help that I’m just that charming,” Maxwell grinned and, to prove his point, he shot Dorian his sexiest, most smouldering smile. To his credit, the mage managed to maintain his frown for at least ten seconds before he melted, little patches of colour appearing on his cheeks.

“Smug bastard,” he muttered. “I bet you practise that in front of mirror, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” the rogue chuckled. “Perhaps you should try it? A man of your station and devastating good looks could really put it to use.”

Dorian laughed at that- really laughed, the kind of deep, unrestrained sound that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. Max couldn’t get enough of that sound.

“You are just awful, sometimes,” Dorian chortled. “Truly, do you hear yourself?”

Max moved to perch on the edge of the mattress, beaming, and he planted a kiss on the Tevinter’s forehead.

“I do,” he murmured. “And I mean every word of it, no matter how sugary it may sound.”

“Flatterer,” Dorian accused, smiling. “You know, you don’t have to stay. I can’t imagine I’m a very good patient and I certainly don’t want you getting sick too.”

Max chuckled. “Do you really think I’d leave you?” he smirked. “I don’t care what you’ve got, Dorian Pavus, I’m staying right here, even if I have to fluff your pillows and feed you tea all night long. I’d never abandon you. I love you.”

Dorian’s eyes widened and Max felt his heart still in his chest. Shit, had he actually said it out loud? Oh Maker, he had, Dorian looked like he’d seen a ghost. He’d been holding back the words for days, trying to find the right time to say them, and now he’d blurted them out like a lovesick idiot.

Dorian didn’t say anything and, after a long moment, Max began to feel every bit as nauseated as his lover had been earlier. His whole body tensed and he was actually considering up and running for the washroom when he heard Dorian speak.

“Kaffas, Maxwell, you pick the worst times for romantic confessions,” he muttered, weakly. “But damn it all, I love you too.”

“You do?” Max found himself grinning so hard that it almost hurt. Not caring a bit that Dorian had spent most of the evening throwing up, he swooped down upon his lover and claimed his lips in a jubilant kiss. Dorian kissed him back for a moment, sweetly hesitant, before pulling away.

“Of course I do,” he murmured. “As infuriating as you are, you are also incredibly lovable.”

“It’s the hair, isn’t it?” Maxwell smirked. “Everyone says so.”

“That must be it,” agreed Dorian dryly. He glanced away then, looking a tad bashful. “I suppose this should be the part where we make mad, passionate love,” he jested. “I’m afraid I’m not quite up to the task, amatus.”

Max uttered a gentle laugh and he reached out to his love, cupping his chin and raising his beautiful head to meet his eyes.

“Don’t apologise,” he smiled. “Love isn’t all about the stuff between the sheets… though I won’t deny, it is very, _very_ good.” He winked and Dorian chuckled, batting Max’s hand away and shaking his head. “Real love is more,” Max went on. “It’s holding your lover up when they haven’t the strength to stand on their own. It’s covering them up with a blanket when they fall asleep in the study again, never mind that they left you waiting… you just don’t want them to get cold. It’s rubbing their feet when they insist on wearing boots that pinch because they’re pretty. It’s the ridiculous sex hair and kissing with morning breath and farting in bed – the whole ugly, beautiful package.”

Dorian laughed brightly at that.

“Delightful,” he sniffed, though his lips were still twitching at the corners. “Maker what have I let myself in for…”

“No returns now, gorgeous,” Max winked. “There’s no taking it back.”

“I’ve no desire to take anything back, amatus,” the mage said warmly, his grey eyes tired but glowing with unadulterated affection – with love. Maxwell felt like the luckiest man in Thedas.

The rogue was spared the risk of saying something disgustingly corny by a knock on the door.

“That’ll be your number one fan,” Dorian muttered, as Max slid off the bed and made his way around it. He shushed Dorian silently with a finger on his lips and opened the door for Loretta.

“Your tea, my Lord,” she smiled cheerily and Maxwell took the tray she was carrying off her, setting it on the bureau.

“Thank you, Loretta,” he said, carefully polite.

“Is there anything else you require?” she asked, and Maxwell was reasonably sure she sounded hopeful.

“No thank you,” he replied, quickly. “That will be all.”

“Of course, my Lord,” she replied smoothly. She turned slightly to the bed, curtseying as she had done earlier. “My Lord Pavus,” she murmured. “I bid you a pleasant evening.”

Maxwell smiled and he saw her out of the room, closing it again behind her.

“It’s like I’m not even here!” Dorian complained. “An afterthought. Never mind that this is my bloody house…”

“What’s the matter, love?” teased Max, as he carried the tray over to the bed. “Not used to having competition?” There were two cups but Maxwell only bothered to pour out one, handing the dainty china vessel over to his lover. Dorian muttered an oath in Tevene and snatched up his tea. He settled against the pillows, which were propped up at the head of the bed, and attempted to look annoyed. It lasted all of two seconds.

“Oh, thank the Maker for peppermint tea,” he groaned appreciatively, his eyes falling shut and an expression of supreme pleasure taking up residence in his features. Max smirked, simply pleased that Dorian was pleased, and he wriggled up next to the Tevinter’s side, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“I’ll have you know, that was the first time I’d worn those boots,” the mage said conversationally, as he sipped his tea. “New boots always pinch the first time.”

“Mhm,” Max grinned.

“And I do not fart in bed,” he sniffed.

“Of course not,” the rogue chuckled. “You’re the perfect-”

Max paused, cocking his head. He could hear an odd noise coming from outside the room – down the corridor, if he was not mistaken. A woman’s voice. Shouting? No, more like screaming he’d say. But what was she saying? He listened hard, tilting his head in the direction of the sound. It came again, louder this time, and there was no mistaking it.

_“Oh Maker, Cullen!”_

Maxwell’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. He cringed, covering his ears, even as Dorian burst into devilish laughter.

“No, no, no,” the rogue wailed. “Please don’t tell me I just heard what I thought I heard.”

He glanced at Dorian, who was grinning like a fiend, his shoulders shaking with amusement. He risked moving his hands away from his ears and, for a moment, all was quiet, save Dorian’s chuckling. Then there came another particularly loud cry from down the hall, the unmistakable sound of a woman in throes of passion. Maxwell groaned miserably, planting his face into the mattress.

“Andraste’s tits, what is he doing to her?” he groaned, the sound muffled by the soft down beneath him.

“I think they’re working through some issues, amatus,” his lover snickered. “And good on them. At least someone is getting pounded tonight.”

“I did offer,” Max pointed out.

“I know,” Dorian murmured, and Maxwell felt a hand rest lightly on the back of his head, stroking his hair. “We’ll make up for it, soon enough.”

“Do you think we’re that loud?” Max wondered. He rolled onto his back, looking over at Dorian with a frown. It was perhaps not the best time to emerge, as Evie’s voice echoed down the corridor again. Max couldn’t deny, Cullen was obviously doing a good job. His respect for the man grew.

“I think we have been,” smirked Dorian. “The only way to know for sure would be to ask Evelyn.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Max muttered. “She sounds pretty busy.”

The Tevinter laughed impishly, brushing a hand across Maxwell’s face. Max caught it, pressing soft kisses to the inside of Dorian’s wrist and making him gasp.

“Less of that,” the mage scolded. “It’s not fair to get me excited when I’m in no fit state to do anything about it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve finished my tea and I’d quite like to get some sleep. I’m exhausted.”

“Sure, love,” Max murmured. “I’m pretty shattered myself.”

The rogue had already removed his boots earlier so all he had to do was take off his shirt – Tevinter nights were far too warm for shirts – and wriggle under the sheets. Dorian set his empty cup on the night stand and he doused the lamps with a little flare of magic.

“I love watching you do that,” Max smiled, and he huddled up to his lovers side, pressing feather light kisses to his chest. “Hell, I love _you,_ Dorian Pavus.”

“I love you too, amatus,” the mage mumbled, closing his eyes. “Even if you do talk too much.”

“You adore my voice and you know it,” the Marcher insisted. His only reply was a sleepy chuckle. Maxwell watched as sleep took Dorian, slowing his breath, softening the expression on his face. He must truly have been exhausted, for it took only a couple of minutes for him to be lost to it, his arm wrapped loosely around the rogue’s shoulder. Max sighed. It had been an eventful night, sudden malaise and dramatic love confessions happening in such a short time. Maxwell hoped that whatever was causing these bouts of sickness was nothing too concerning. They’d only just admitted how they felt about each other. He couldn’t bear the thought of harm befalling the man he loved.


	7. Sweets and Satisfaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie cooks for Cullen, by way of a thank you. Dorian just wants to be back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd give you a bit of dual perspective after that last chapter. Hope you enjoy!

VII

Sweets and Satisfaction

(Ties into Chapter XXV – Doctor in the House)

 

 

The door to Dorian’s room closed softly after them and Evie turned to her lover, beaming. That which had been discussed (in disturbing detail) just now she would push aside; that could be dealt with tomorrow. For now, there was something far more important she wanted to address.

“What is it?” Cullen frowned, upon seeing her smile. “You look awfully happy considering – mmph!”

Evie silenced the blonde with a slow, loving kiss. She bobbed up on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck. Cullen’s hands settled on her waist and he kissed her back, tongue moving languorously against her own. When she eventually pulled away, the man was breathless; breathless but grinning.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he chuckled, “but what was that for, exactly? I’d have thought, considering what we’ve just discussed-”

“I don’t want to think about now,” Evie told him flatly. “I’m more interested in what happened before that.”

“What happened before that?” Cullen repeated. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean.”

His tone was innocent enough but the twinkle in his amber eyes told her he knew precisely what she spoke of. The moment she’d walked out of that washroom and seen Cullen on the bed with Dorian, taking care of him as though they were lifelong pals, her heart had almost burst out of her chest. Evie had known Cullen was planning to make an effort with her amicus; he’d told her as much himself. She hadn’t expected that, though, and she’d be a liar if she said it hadn’t made her a little misty eyed (also, a little tingly between the thighs, but she wasn’t even going to acknowledge that).

“You know what I mean,” she smiled. “You and Dorian.”

Cullen merely shrugged, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks.

“He’s your friend and he’s important to you,” he said, simply. “And anyone who’s important to you, is important to me too. I’m determined to look past my previous envy. I want us all to get along.”

Evie sighed happily at that and she reached up to throw her arms around Cullen’s neck again. “Just when I think I can’t love you any more,” she purred, and she proceeded to pepper the former Templar’s face and neck with kisses. Cullen laughed delightedly.

“It was worth it just for your reaction,” he chuckled.

“You are a sweet, darling man and I love you to little pieces,” Evie declared, pressing one final kiss to his lips before pulling away again. “How can I ever repay you?”

“Evie, you don’t have to-”

“Oh! How about we go down to the kitchens and I make you some of that lovely vanilla fudge you like?” the redhead suggested. Cullen’s protests died in his throat and he immediately perked up, eyes bright.

“You can make that now?” he asked, earnestly eager. Evie giggled and she nodded.

“I learned when I found out you were coming back,” she admitted. “I know it’s your favourite.”

“Mmm, then lead the way,” the blonde smirked. He took Evie’s hand and they wandered together down to the kitchens.

They were busy, not at all to Evie’s surprise, the kitchen staff well in the midst of their preparations for dinner.

“ _Don’t mind us,”_ Evie called, as she dragged her lover through the bustling room. “ _We’ll just set up in a quiet corner out of the way._ ”

“ _Making anything special for your hunky human?_ ” Augura asked, knowing full well Cullen didn’t speak a word of Tevene.

_“Just a little fudge,”_ she replied, with a wink. “ _This one has a sweet tooth, don’t you know_.”

“ _Oh, I know,”_ the dwarf chuckled. “ _He’s not above using those big, golden puppy-dog eyes to get me to make him a few, when he fancies. Why don’t you set up over here and I’ll go and fetch you the things you’ll need?_ ”

“Thank you, Augura,” Evie beamed and she led Cullen over to one of the stoves.

“I’m really going to have to learn that blighted language, aren’t I?” the blonde mumbled, as he gazed around the busy room.

“You should sit in on my lessons,” Evie suggested, cheerfully. “I can easily catch you up on what I know so far. You’ll grasp it fast enough; you’re good with your tongue.”

“Being good with my tongue and being good _with_ tongues are not the same thing,” Cullen pointed out and he was blushing, albeit whilst smirking, at the comparison.

“Oops, my mistake,” shrugged the redhead innocently. Cullen could only snort.

“Here you are,” Augura announced as she returned. She set down a large pan, a metal tray, a wooden spoon and a jug, along with a basket of ingredients, on the counter beside the stove. “I hope you plan to share, my Lady,” the dwarf teased good-naturedly.

“I’m making no promises,” Cullen smirked in reply.

 

*

 

“How are you feeling now, love? The pain all gone?”

Maxwell brushed Dorian’s hair – long since fallen out of its usual neat coif – out of his face. His lover looked tired but he seemed contented enough as he lay on the bed in his breeches, reading a book.

“I’m _fine_ , amatus,” the mage murmured. “Do stop fussing.”

“Never,” Max declared. “I love you. It’s my prerogative to fuss over you and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Oh, I’m sure there are few things I can do to distract you,” said Dorian, snapping shut his book and setting it on the night stand. He moved rather quickly for a sick man and, before he could even voice his protests, Maxwell found himself pinned to the mattress beneath his lover. Dorian kissed him without reserve, his lips and tongue cool and tasting of sweet peppermint.

“Dorian, don’t,” Max mumbled, attempting to dislodge the Tevinter as gently as he could. “Don’t love, you’re not well. You should be-”

“Don’t you treat me like a porcelain doll, Maxwell Trevelyan,” muttered Dorian, irritably, as he trailed hot kisses down Max’s neck. “It’s for me to decide whether I’m well enough for this or not.” He nipped at Max’s collar bone then, making the rogue cry out in surprise and reluctant arousal. Maker, Dorian knew how to get him going and he was really taking no prisoners. Max couldn’t lie idly back and enjoy it, though, not when he knew that something was amiss.

“Dorian, please,” he tried again, though he couldn’t help his gasp as Dorian tugged open his shirt and closed his mouth around one of Max’s nipples. The mage sucked hard and Max bucked up his hips involuntarily, groaning.

“I do love it when you beg, amatus,” Dorian purred seductively. He licked a line across the rogue’s chest and subjected the other nipple to precisely the same treatment.

“Will you cut that out?” whimpered Max. “Seriously, this isn’t right…”

“No? Your little noises say otherwise, darling.”

Dorian began to tug up Max’s shirt, exposing his stomach. Yet Max had had enough.

“Tell me, then,” he growled, as he tried to get his traitorous body in check. “If you’re enjoying this, then what’s with this?”

On a hunch, Max reached up to fondle the front of Dorian’s breeches. He wasn’t surprised by what he felt there; Dorian was completely soft.

“Give a moment, amatus. I was, as you keep pointing out, rather ill just earlier today.” The mage tried bluffing his way out of it but Maxwell wouldn’t hear it.

“Cut the shit, Dorian,” he said, bluntly. “What is this really about?”

Dorian managed to look annoyed for all of two seconds before he crumpled, sighing in defeat.

“I just wanted to feel sexy,” he murmured, bowing his head. “I detest being ill. It’s weak and undignified and Maker knows how dreadful I must look, let alone how I feel…”

He looked so lost, so dejected, that the rogue couldn’t stand to stay angry at him, even if he did have a rather uncomfortable erection in his own breeches.

“Come here,” he sighed, and he sat up, wrapping his arms around the man he loved. “Dorian, you are beautiful, charming, intelligent and incredibly sexy. But you’re also human. We all get sick from time to time – no one is immune to that. Stop judging yourself for having moments of vulnerability. Maker knows I don’t.”

“But I feel revolting,” Dorian whispered into Max’s shoulder.

“You’re not revolting,” Maxwell assured him. “Far from it, in fact.” And the Marcher rolled his hips, letting Dorian feel how much he was still attractive. To his delight, Dorian chuckled.

“Well, when you put it so eloquently,” he said, looking up to meet Max’s eyes. “Want me to help you with that?” he asked, and Max knew he was only half serious.

“No, that can wait,” the Marcher promised. “What I want is for you to be comfortable and happy. What can we do to make that happen?”

Dorian sat back on his haunches over Max’s knees, making a show of pretending to think.

“I may have an idea, if you’re willing to indulge me…” he began.

“Name it,” beamed Maxwell.

 

*

 

“Oh Maker, it smells divine!”

Cullen was hovering at her side, eyeing the contents of the bubbling pot with unreserved longing. His appetite for sweets was almost boyish in its innocence and it never failed to delight Evie.

“It’s pretty much just toffee at this point,” Evie explained, as she stirred the molten sugar mixture carefully. “I could tip it out like this and let it set and that’s what it would become. But that’s not what we’re going for.”

“So what do you do next?” the blonde asked, watching her closely.

“Well, I just need to check it’s at the right stage, which I think it is…” She pulled her spoon out of the hot, gooey mixture and, very carefully, flicked a blob of it into the jug of ice water by the stove. It hissed and she followed it with her hand, pulling it out and squeezing it between her fingers. “See that?” she asked her fascinated lover. “It has to firm but still squidgy when dropped into cold water.”

“And then?”

“And then we add the vanilla and give it a good beating until it’s pale and smooth,” Evie winked, laughing at the way Cullen flushed.

“Maker’s breath, you are far too like your brother sometimes,” he groaned, though he was smiling. “Can I help?”

“If you like,” Evie shrugged, though she was secretly delighted he was interested enough to offer. “I’ll just put the vanilla in and then you can give it a whisk, put those lovely strong arms to good use.”

She retrieved the final ingredient of the dish from the basket – a single vanilla pod. Using a paring knife, she slit along the length of the pod and used the tip to scrape out the tiny seeds, adding them to the molten sugar mixture. Then she handed Cullen a whisk.

“Just… be careful,” she said, softly. “It’s stupidly hot and I don’t want you to burn yourself.”

Cullen smiled and he pressed a gentle kiss to the curve of her cheek.

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he smirked, stepping up behind Evie at the stove. His arms reached around her, trapping her between the stove and his body, and he began to beat the mixture.

“Do you want me to move?” Evie asked, laughing.

“Oh no,” the blonde murmured in her ear, making her quiver. “I’m quite happy here.”

He planted another kiss on her cheek, tender and chaste. Evie relaxed back against his chest with a happy sigh. Back in the Circle, she’d had many a fantasy like this – nothing sexual, as such, just a wistful longing for opportunities to be so simple and domestic. She’d picture herself standing at a counter, delicately the crimping the edges of a fresh apple pie. Cullen would wander over to her, slip his arms around her waist from behind, ask her what she was doing whilst bestowing idle kisses on her neck and jaw. She’d tell him she had a craving and he’d chuckle, letting his hands drift over the ripe swell of her belly...

Evie blinked at that, trying desperately to banish the old dream from her mind. She couldn’t think on that, not now. It was too painful. She forced herself to focus on reality, on the man standing behind her, humming softly as he worked. His scent invaded her senses, grounded her against the panic that threatened to rise, and she breathed it in deep.

“You alright?” Cullen murmured.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I’m fine,” Evie assured him, leaning affectionately against his arm.

“Good,” the former Templar kissed her hair. “I think it’s almost done. What do you think?”

Evie peered into the still steaming pan. The mixture inside was pale and golden-brown and smelled positively delicious.

“Almost there,” she agreed. “Just another minute and then we’ll pour it out and let it set.”

“How long does that take?” asked Cullen, and the slight whine to his tone made her laugh.

 

*

 

As it turned out, Maxwell was more than happy to indulge his boyfriend in this particular request. Dorian lay naked beneath him, his oiled skin glistening in the dappled light of a dozen candles. He was almost asleep from the attention Max was lavishing upon him, humming softly into his pillow as the rogue worked every bit of tension out of his muscles.

“Feels so good, amatus,” he groaned drowsily. Max had massaged his way slowly from Dorian’s shoulders, right down his back and was currently working on the tops of his thighs. It was admittedly harder to focus down in this region; the urge to bite Dorian’s perfect golden arse was tantalising, to say the least. However, the rogue was determined to keep his less chaste urges in check. He wanted this to be a nice, relaxing experience for his ailing lover.

“How do you feel, love?” he asked, in a low voice. “Need to roll over, take a bit of pressure off your stomach?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” the Tevinter mumbled, “Please, don’t stop.”

It was hard to refuse a request so earnest. Maxwell smiled and he happily continued in his work. He massaged diligently down one leg and then up the other, taking his sweet time. By the time he got back up to Dorian’s backside, he was sure the mage was asleep, so silent had he been for so long. Max sat back on his haunches, stretching out his fingers. He was about to move off of his lover when Dorian gave a whine, lifting his hips off the bed and waggling his bottom.

“I think you missed a spot, amatus,” he murmured, and as sleepy as he sounded, there was no mistaking the sensual tone to his voice. Maxwell chuckled.

“We’ve had this discussion, love,” he reminded him, and he tried to pretend he wasn’t hopelessly aroused by the sight of Dorian’s arse presented so perfectly to him.

“Max, I’m almost coming on the sheets here,” the Tevinter groaned. “You’ve been touching me forever. Please, just get inside me, would you?”

Surprised, Max reached between his lover’s legs and they both moaned as his fingers closed around an exceptionally hard shaft.

“Maker’s breath,” the rogue breathed. Suddenly, he felt distinctly less guilty for the semi he’d been sporting almost since they’d begun. “Why didn’t you tell me, love?” he asked, giving Dorian a preliminary stroke. The mage hummed with pleasure, thrusting idly into Max’s fist.

“I wanted to see if you could make me come like this,” Dorian admitted. “Plus, I’m feeling lazy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so simultaneously turned on and sleepy at the same time.”

“So what is it you want, beautiful?” asked Max, biting his lip against the sight of Dorian’s undulating arse. “Want me to screw you into the mattress? Want me to pin you down and pound you until you come all over these lovely silk sheets?”

Dorian made a hungry noise in the back of his throat but, to Max’s surprise, he shook his head.

“I want you to make love to me, Maxwell,” he murmured.

Max’s breath caught in his throat. “As you wish, my sweet,” he whispered, and he leaned forward on his knees, burying his face in his lover’s crack.

 

*

 

“Mmm, it’s so good,” Cullen sighed, as he snatched the rest of the piece from between Evie’s fingers. Evie smiled. She hadn’t expected him to have much of an appetite left after their three course dinner, from which Max and Dorian were both mysteriously absent. However, it seemed when it came to sweets, the former Knight-Commander could always find the room.

“Worth waiting for?” she asked, as she plucked another square of the pale, velvety fudge from its little box.

“Absolutely,” murmured Cullen. He looked to be in utter bliss as he leaned against Evie’s chest, quite content for once to submit to her pampering. “You’re exceptional, Evelyn, as always.”

Evie flushed with delight. “You’re too kind, my love,” she murmured, and she pressed the little treat to the blonde’s lips. Cullen groaned, rubbing his stomach.

“Alright, just another one,” he agreed. “Any more and I think I’ll actually burst.”

He devoured it with relish though and, when he was done, leaned back against Evie’s chest with a sigh of contentment.

“It was a dangerous thing, you learning to cook,” he commented, smirking up at her. “I’m beginning to fear for my waistline.”

“Don’t, it’s lovely” Evie assured him and she leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Besides, would that be the worst thing that could happen?”

“Not at all,” Cullen chuckled. “I… used to dream about it quite a lot actually, back at the Circle. You and me and a sweet little cottage, somewhere near the ocean. A couple of hounds and a brood of strawberry blonde children running around our ankles. You singing and baking in the kitchen, whilst I sit in front of the fire with the babes, getting fat off your wonderful cooking.” He laughed then, cheeks a touch pink with embarrassment. “It’s silly, I know…”

Evie beamed, her heart fluttering in her chest to hear him voice such a thing aloud. “No, it’s not,” she said, softly. “It sounds wonderful. I’ll admit, I used to have very similar ideas. They could still happen,” she added, hopefully. She expected him to scoff but to her surprise, he merely nodded.

“We’re closer here than we ever were at the Circle,” he reasoned. “Marriage to Dorian aside. Perhaps… one day…”

“One day,” Evie agreed and she kissed him with all her heart.

 

*

 

Dorian was practically unconscious by the time Maxwell pulled out of him. He was boneless and beautiful on the bed, panting for breath, and Max scooped him up, pulling him into his arms.

“I love you, Dorian,” the rogue whispered, pressing kiss after kiss to the mage’s parted lips. Dorian opened bleary eyes, looking equal parts drowsy and dazed.

“Love you too, amatus,” he whispered. It was about the most words he could apparently manage. Maxwell smiled fondly as he held his lover against his chest, cuddling down into the sheets with him. The Tevinter was asleep within moments. Max could feel the soft tickle of the other man’s breath on his skin, hear the slight snore that Dorian would vehemently deny if Max ever brought it up. Something wet and warm was trickling over his thighs but Max didn't care. The rogue thought it adorable and he pressed a fond kiss into his boyfriend’s hair. His hammering heart slowly began to calm and the glow of his orgasm faded into something quieter – quieter yet no less powerful. It burned in his chest like a beacon and Max knew what it was without having to think.

Maker, he had it bad.


	8. Accidental Voyeur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian finds himself an unwitting witness to Evie and Cullen's passion.

VIII

Accidental Voyeur

(takes place after Chapter XXVII but before Chapter XXVIII)

 

“Where in the Void is that tea?” Dorian muttered to himself, as he perused the shelves of the pantry.

It was very early in the morning and the Tevinter had woken up inexplicably… well, that wasn’t true. He’d woken up because he’d been having a very titillating dream about his amatus and the feel of his stiff cock trapped between his belly and the silk sheets was proving too much. Strangely, coaxing himself to an orgasm hadn’t helped. Instead, he found himself more awake than before. He’d decided then to wander down to the kitchens and make himself some camomile tea – that usually worked to send him to sleep. However, he couldn’t find the blighted stuff anywhere. The servants were all asleep, of course, so he could hardly ask them. He’d been looking for at least ten minutes and was getting nowhere. Annoyed, the mage was about to call it a night when he heard footsteps and voices out in the kitchen beyond. Dorian cocked his head and he approached the pantry door curiously. It was slightly ajar and he peered through the gap to see. It was Evie and Cullen, the blonde carrying the redhead and kissing her furiously as he stumbled through the room. Once he reached the bank of counters, he set her down and Evie wasted no time wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Mmm, Cullen,” she purred. “Here? Really?”

Dorian couldn’t see much of his amicus, just her bare calves crossed at the ankles above her lover’s backside. He could see plenty of Cullen’s back however, for the man was shirtless, dressed only in a pair of breeches that sat low on his hips. He was broader than Maxwell, broader that Dorian himself, and the Tevinter found himself transfixed by the sight.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you on this worktop for days,” Cullen growled, and he pressed his lips to Evie’s neck, making her gasp. “It’s always too busy during the day, though. But now… now it’s just us...”

Dorian’s eyes widened at that. Truly, had the blushing Chantry boy just confessed to dragging his lover to the kitchens in the dead of night for sex? Dorian would never have suspected he had it in him. And there he was, hiding in the pantry, looking for camomile tea. That simply wouldn’t do. His hand reached for the doorknob and he readied himself to step out and interrupt them before they got too engrossed in their task. However, the blonde was apparently on a mission and had Evie pushed back against the counter before Dorian could move. Fascinated, he watched as Evie’s thighs were pushed apart and Cullen’s golden head dipped downwards.

“Maker,” Evie gasped. “Oh Cullen!”

That cry should not have turned Dorian on as much as he did. He swallowed, his tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. If he pressed up close to the gap in the door, he could actually hear the little wet sounds of Cullen’s mouth on Evie’s sex. And Maker, that was arousing. Not the idea of Evie’s lady parts so much but the sounds she was making, the proof that her hunky Templar was very, very good with his tongue. Evie’s legs hung over his shoulders and Dorian could see her toes curling, see her fingers gripping the edge of the wood.

“Cullen,” she entreated. “Love, please!”

Cullen chuckled then, a dark, sensual sound that sent a shiver down Dorian’s spine. The mage’s cock began to stiffen in his pants and he bit his lip. This was not good, he decided; he was trapped in the pantry with a hard on and his best friend was just outside, getting head from her handsome, alluring Fereldan boyfriend. Should he just walk out? Was that in any way worse than staying and being discovered later? Or, Maker preserve him, actually seeing everything? Did he really want that?

“Mmm, Evie you are so fucking wet for me,” the former Templar murmured. “Maker, I could lick your sweet cunt all night.”

Dorian had to stuff a hand over his mouth to stifle a groan. Never, ever had he imagined Cullen capable of being so dirty and he’d be damned if it wasn’t one of the hottest things he’d ever heard. Apparently, Evie thought so too for she moaned noisily, arching up off the counter.

“Don’t stop,” she begged him breathlessly. “Oh Cullen, please don’t stop!”

The blonde hummed and Evie sobbed, tightening her legs around his neck. Dorian’s cock throbbed hungrily and he reached down, cupping the bulge of it through his breeches. He shouldn’t… oh Maker, he really shouldn’t. It was wrong and a little twisted and, venhedis, that only made him want to even more.

“Cullen! Cullen! Oh yes!”

The vocal cries of his lover seemed to spur Cullen on. He made a sound like a growl and, even from behind, Dorian could tell he was really going for it. His breath stilled in his chest. He could just imagine the man sucking cock with the same sort of relish. Oh, he would be incredible.  

Evie was almost screaming now, her fingers digging actual grooves into the wood of the counter. Cullen brought a hand into the fray and that seemed to undo her. She cried out, a beautiful, broken sound that made Dorian blush to hear it. He watched, intrigued, as Cullen stood up, rolling his neck, sucking on the fingers of his right hand. A nice touch, Dorian smirked, not that Evie seemed in any fit state to notice. From what he could see of her, which was mercifully little, she appeared to be lying in a boneless heap on the counter, her legs hanging limply off the edge.

“What are doing?” Cullen murmured. “Get up. I’m not done with you, yet.”

“Cullen,” Evie whimpered, and Dorian could sympathise. After an orgasm like that, he wouldn’t want to move either. To his surprise, Cullen pulled her roughly off the counter

“Stand,” he commanded. Evie managed to get her shaking legs underneath her and Cullen hummed, clearly pleased. “Good,” he praised her. “Now turn around and bend forward over the counter. Put your hands flat on the surface and stay like that.”

Maker, the authoritative tone to Cullen’s voice was incredibly sexy. Was that how he used to bark at his recruits, Dorian wondered? He watched Evie do as she was told and Cullen stepped back to admire the view. This also gave Dorian an eyeful of Evie’s shapely backside but he didn’t much care at that point. His eyes were drawn to the impressive tent in the front of Cullen’s breeches. He bit his lip again, he heart racing as the blonde began to unbutton them slowly. Mind made up, Dorian copied him and they both eased their cocks out of their smalls in unison. Maker’s breath, Cullen had a gorgeous prick. He wasn’t quite as well-endowed as Maxwell but impressive nonetheless; thick, flushed at the tip and glistening. Dorian drank in the sight hungrily, watched as Cullen took himself in hand and gave a few lazy strokes.

“Maker, you should see yourself,” he breathed. “Such an eager little slut. How much do you want it, Evie? Tell me how much you crave my cock.”

Dorian groaned softly at hearing that. His hand went to his own erection and he began to touch himself, fist pumping up and down in a languid rhythm. Oh, he was a bad, bad man…

“Cullen,” Evie begged him. “Please, I need you so much. I don’t care where, I just want you inside me!”

Cullen chuckled darkly again. “Such things you say,” he growled. “And here I don’t even have any oil on me. I should fuck your tight little ass dry for being such a tease,” he hissed, and Evie and Dorian groaned in unison, hopelessly turned on. “I won’t, though,” he added. “Not when you’re already so wet for me. Do you still have your palms on the counter?”

“Yes,” breathed Evie. “I swear.”

“Good,” Cullen muttered. “Keep them there. You do not have permission to touch.”

He moved up behind Evie then. Dorian watched, breath bated, as the blonde slid his breeches down to his knees. Fasta vass, what a delectable arse he had! Maker, he loved Maxwell, but Dorian desperately wanted to bite that arse, to spread those perfect, porcelain cheeks and lick Cullen’s tight little virgin hole. He grunted and he gripped his cock a little harder. His eyes were on Cullen, watching the former Templar seize Evie’s hips. Her breath hitched and the pair of them moaned as he pushed himself inside of her.

“Fuck,” Cullen gasped. “Damn it, Evie, you really are wet.”

Dorian watched, entranced, as the blonde rolled his hips, slow and teasing, the muscles in his arse and legs flexing hypnotically. Evie whimpered and he did it again, then again, establishing a torturous rhythm of deep, languid movements. Dorian had been on the receiving end of such torment before and Maker if it wasn’t frustrating and incredible all at once. He matched his own pace to that of Cullen’s hips, imaging himself beneath the blonde. How good would that lovely thick cock feel inside of him? He could picture Max behind Cullen in turn, fucking the blonde with his fingers whilst Cullen claimed Dorian’s ass. Shit, that was hot… Dorian bit back a moan and rolled his hips into his own fist. This was so wrong but it was so, so sexy. He could see Evie writhing against the counter, hear her desperate pleas for more, and he just knew Cullen would be amazing.

“More?” growled the blonde, and he punctured his words with a particularly deep thrust, making Evie sob with pleasure. “More what? Tell me Evie.”

“Cullen, please,” she begged. “I need it harder, faster…”

The former Templar obliged her, gaining speed until he was screwing her with hard, fast thrusts.

“That what you want?” he panted. “Want me to nail you like a cheap back-alley harlot?”

“Oh Maker yes! Cullen!”

Dorian picked up the pace too, his free hand in front of his mouth to muffle his noises of pleasure. The hand on his cock added a gentle twist, thumb teasing the sensitive head on every stroke. Maker, he could feel the need building up inside of him, pooling in his belly, hot and consuming. Oh, the things he could hear – Cullen’s grunts of animalistic delight, the obscenely wet sounds of Cullen’s cock plunging into Evie’s slick passage. Having never fucked a woman before, Dorian had no idea what a cunt might feel like; if he was to believe his ears, it was very good indeed. Both Evie and Cullen seemed beyond words now, voicing their pleasure with only gasps and moans and cries. It was delicious to behold. Oh, how he ached to filled like that, to be pounded like that…

Dorian’s orgasm took him completely by surprise. He cried out into his hand, cum splattering over his fingers and onto the stone floor at his feet. He panted, legs trembling, awed by the sudden force of it and how it just kept coming. When it finally stopped, he almost staggered back into the shelves. Only his quick reflexes saved him as he tightly gripped the doorknob, pulling the door fully closed. Dorian froze in horror, one hand on the door, the other still on his softening cock. Venhedis, if they’d heard that or somehow had seen it, he didn’t think he would ever live it down. He waited, his heart pounding, knowing he should probably redress but not daring to move. To his great relief, the sounds of pleasure on the other side of the door only grew louder. Evie was calling Cullen’s name like a prayer and the blonde gave a throaty cry that could only mean his end. Dorian smirked, imagining how beautiful Cullen must look as he spilled himself. His head would be thrown back, his lips parted in a silent sound. Were it Dorian beneath him, he’d be reaching back to kiss the man, wanting to feel him in every way possible.

Sighing, Dorian cleaned off his hand and tucked himself gingerly back into his breeches. He’d had his second orgasm in an hour and, quite suddenly, he was feeling as sleepy and content as she should have been after the first. He stifled a yawn and leaned against the door, listening to what was going on in the kitchen.

He could hear panting interspersed by the breathy moans and wet sounds of kissing.

“How was that?” Cullen asked, his tone uncertain and gentle and much more familiar. “Was that alright? Was that what you wanted?”

“Maker, Cullen,” sighed Evie. “That was incredible. You were incredible. It was exactly like in my dream.*”

“I’m glad,” Cullen said, and Dorian could hear the soppy smile in his voice. “Maker’s breath, that was nerve wracking. I could have sworn we were going to get caught.”

Evie laughed softly. “Everyone’s asleep, my love. It’s just you and me. Still, I’d rather not linger. The floor in here is freezing.”

“Tell me about it,” Cullen chuckled. “Do you want me to make us some tea or something before we go back to bed?”

Dorian’s eyes widened in horror and he shook his head insistently. There was nowhere to hide in the pantry and if Cullen came in, he;d be discovered for sure. To his utmost relief, Evie declined.

“I just want to curl up next to you,” she murmured. “And a fresh pair of underclothes,” she added. “I have a feeling these ones will be fit for nothing by the time we get back.

“As you wish,” Dorian head Cullen laugh. “Come on, then; to bed.”

Dorian listened, hearing their muffled footsteps as they retreated back into the house. He waited a good couple of minutes before opening the pantry door a crack and peeking out make sure they were gone. The kitchen was indeed empty and Dorian slipped out, making hasty tracks back to his bedroom. He seriously doubted anyone would notice he was gone but he wasn’t going to take chances. Also, he was post-coital and drowsy and the comfort of his bed was calling to him.

Maker, he couldn’t wait to tell Max about all of this when he got home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yes, my friends that was a throw-back!! Re-read the first chapter if you've forgotten. 
> 
> Hmm, I wonder if Evie told Cullen about Dorian's role in that little dream...


	9. Heart-to-Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little chitchat between friends after a tough day.

IX

Heart-to-Heart

 

(ties in to Chapter XXXII – Waiting in the Wings)

 

 

“Do you know, for two people who detest each other, it’s ironic how well my parents can work together to make my life difficult!”

Evie watched Dorian stomping around the room, tugging savagely at the clasps on his robes as he tried – and failed – to get undressed. They’d retired a little earlier than they might usually: apparently her amicus had had his fill of his parents for one day.

“And her!” he hissed. “Making eyes at _my man_ every time his back was turned! What was she thinking?”

“Probably that it would irritate your father, just as you said before,” Evie reminded him. “Dorian, don’t let them get to you. It’s not worth it.”

Dorian sighed and he leaned on the dresser, gripping the edge of the wood with shaking hands.

“I know,” he sighed. “Maker, they’re just so infuriating…”

Evie sidled up behind him and she slipped her arms around his waist. The Tevinter leaned back into her embrace, huffing out a long, exasperated groan.

“You’re getting yourself all tense,” she pointed out, as she undid the array of clasps and buckles he’d been struggling with not moments prior. “And Max can’t be here to help you _unwind_ so…”

Dorian chuckled reluctantly, shaking his head.

“Yes, thank you for reminding me that sex is very much off the cards for the next couple of nights,” he said, dryly. “That _always_ makes me feel better.”

Smirking, Evie made her way over to her own dresser in search of a night gown.

“Yes, well you’re not the only one,” she reminded him, as she rifled through her drawers. “We’re all suffering together.”

She found a long, purple satin chemise and she plucked it out, nudging the drawer shut with her knee. It was a sign of how many times they’d done this that she didn’t even bother getting behind the screen anymore. She simply unlaced her gown, letting it pool on the floor at her feet, and pulled the night-dress over her head. Her gown she folded neatly and placed on top of the dresser – someone would come in in the morning and take it to be laundered. She turned back to Dorian, who was just slipping off his shirt, leaving him clad in a pair of light, drawstring trousers. There was a line of conspicuous looking bruises curving along his back. Evie’s eyes widened at the sight of them.

“Maker’s breath,” she laughed, “What has my brother been doing to you?”

“Hm?” Dorian turned around, his brow creased in a quizzical frown. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“What am I talking about?” Evie gave a scandalised giggle, stepping up close and running her finger along the curve of his shoulder blade, which was speckled with the purple-blue marks. “I’m talking about this!” she grinned. “What was he doing, trying to eat you?”

Dorian turned his head this way and that, trying to get a view of his own back. He must have caught sight of something for he barked out a laugh, his eyes glittering fiendishly.

“Ah yes, I did think that might have marked but I forgot to check,” he chuckled. “We got a little carried away. Did you know he was wearing those little lacy things of yours all morning under his clothes?”

“Oh, there is an image I do not need,” Evie cringed, which only made Dorian laugh all the more. “Do you want me heal these then or are you keeping them as some sort of token?”

“I suppose you’d better,” he smirked. “Can’t risk my parents seeing them and having to explain how my _wife_ likes to take me from behind.”

“Is that even possible?” the redhead wondered and she led him over to the bed, gesturing for him to lie down. He did, though not before flashing her a wicked smile.

“There is a way,” he purred. “Should I tell you, I wonder?”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” she winced. Dorian laughed and she climbed up onto the bed beside him, running the tips of her fingers over his back. He squirmed and she giggled, letting loose a stream of healing magic, which coiled over Dorian’s skin like a serpent. The bruises turned from blue-purple to yellow-green before slowly beginning to fade.

“You know, I never had you down as a lingerie man,” she teased, as she pulled her hands away.

“It came as a surprise to me too, I assure you,” her amicus chuckled. “There’s just something about that delicate fabric…” He trailed off, his expression dreamy. “I hope you didn’t want them back, incidentally,” he added, after a moment. “I believe I might have ripped them a little.”

Evie flopped down on the bed beside him, trying not to think about the circumstances that might have led to _that_ happening.

“It’s fine,” she told him. “I’d only have told you to burn them anyway.”

“Probably wise,” Dorian agreed with a grin. He propped himself up on his elbows then, his pillow bunched up beneath them, and he fixed her with a mischievous smile.

“So…” he murmured.

Evie laughed. “So what?” she smiled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did you and Cullen manage to…?”

He bounced his eyebrows suggestively and Evie giggled, shaking her head.

“Sadly no,” she sighed. “That would have been a far more pleasant use of my time. Unfortunately, I went and volunteered myself for kitchen duty, didn’t I?”

“You two rather like the kitchen, from what I recall,” he pointed out and he grinned for a moment before his face fell, turning into an almost comical expression of mortification as he realised what he’d said.

“Oh yes!” Evie laughed. “That’s right, you were there, weren’t you?” She gave him an evil grin and he groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “I’d actually forgotten about that in light of all the excitement!”

“Would you kindly forget again so we can skip this entire conversation?” he mumbled.

“Oh Maker no!” she smirked. “I have a right to answers, I think. Tell me – how much did you see?”

Dorian peeked up, biting his lip. “Of you? Very little,” he admitted, and Evie couldn’t deny she was relieved. “Of your lover, however,” he went on. “Well, I saw everything.”

Evie grinned. She tried to recall where about they were in relation to the pantry that night but she couldn’t think of much beyond the rather spectacular sex. Still, Cullen had had his pants shucked down to his knees; it can’t have left much to the imagination.

“Did you like what you saw?” she asked, giggling, and Dorian ducked back into the pillow again.

“Are we truly discussing this?” he moaned. “Do you seriously want to know?”

“I’ll only be imagining it otherwise,” she shrugged. “That could be worse.”

“I doubt it,” he muttered but he raised his head all the same, practically throwing himself onto his back. “Fine,” he conceded, grinding his palms into his eyes in frustration. “Yes, I liked what I saw. Yes, it turned me on. And yes, I shamelessly got off to the entire thing. Happy?”

“Really?” Evie’s brows raised almost to the ceiling. “It turned you on? I wouldn’t have thought man on woman would have done it for you.”

“Neither did I but evidently I was wrong,” he sighed. “So, are you appropriately disgusted with me?”

“Not at all,” she smiled, and she meant it. “It’s actually kind of flattering, I guess.”

“ _Flattering_ ,” Dorian repeated with a laugh. “You’re not serious?”

Evie nodded, smiling, and she reached out to tuck a lock of his hair back into place.

“Absolutely,” she beamed. “I mean, how does it make you feel when I tell you that seeing you and Cullen kissing did it for me?”

“It did?” he exclaimed, with a pleased smile. “Ah. Yes. I see what you mean.”

“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about,” she shrugged.

Dorian beamed. “So… have you two spoken any more about that little cinch?”

Evie sighed and shook her head. “He wasn’t very forthcoming,” she said. “I just made it clear that I didn’t want him losing sleep over it.”

“Sweet girl,” her husband smiled. “As I said, it may take him some time to come to terms with and, when he does, it may be inconsequential or it may be world-shattering. Are you prepared for that?”

“I love him, no matter what,” Evie shrugged. “It doesn’t change anything between us. Does it?”

The Tevinter hummed and he threw out an arm, inviting her to come close. She huddled up to him happily, nestling her head in the crook of his arm.

“Let’s hope not, amicus,” he murmured. “Let’s hope not.”


	10. Brotherly Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie drops by to check on Dorian and ends up reminiscing about Max.

X

Brotherly Love

(Ties into Chapter XXXVI – Make Me an Heir)

 

Evie rapped softly on the door, listening for any sound of life on the other side. She’d met Ellery on her way here and she and the elf had decided to check on the master of the house together. There was a long moment of silence, during which she and the housekeeper exchanged looks. Then came a dubious groan and a hoarse voice floated through the wood.

“What is it?”

“Are you busy?” Evie asked, cautiously. “I just came to check in with my favourite patient but I can come back?”

Another groan – sleepy, definitely, not amorous and the redhead breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s fine, Evie,” Dorian called. “Come in.”

Evie smiled and she opened the door to her amicus’ bedroom. He was sitting up in bed, clearly having just woken up: his hair was rather tousled and he was rubbing drowsily at his eyes. He glanced her way and his brows raised in surprise at seeing Ellery at the door as well.

“Ellery and I just wondered if you were hungry,” Evie smiled, by way of an explanation. “Do you feel like trying to eat again?”

Dorian’s lips curled at one corner. “I’m ravenous,” he sighed. “Perhaps… something light? And some tea, if you please.”

“Of course, my Lord,” the housekeeper beamed, with a bow at the waist. “I’ll go and tell the kitchens and have something sent up for you both.” Her eyes flickered briefly to the man-sized lump in the sheets at Dorian’s side before she drifted out of the room, closing the doors behind her. Evie too glanced at her brother’s side of the bed.

“Tell me you two have clothes on under there,” she murmured, suspiciously. The Tevinter gave a sleepy chuckle.

“We do, you’re safe,” he smirked and Evie took that as permission to sit down.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, placing a hand on his forehead to check his temperature. To her relief, it seemed perfectly normal.

“I’m alright,” he admitted, stifling a yawn. “Still bone weary. A little wobbly on my feet – I almost fell flat on my arse getting up to piss last night.” He tilted his head at her curiously. “Did you and Cullen…?”

Evie winced internally and she nodded. The expression on Dorian’s face turned decidedly uncomfortable and he glanced away.

“Don’t,” Evie whispered, taking him by the chin and forcing him to look at her. “We promised we wouldn’t let it get weird between us. I know it’s not ideal but I’d much rather this than the alternative.” She rose up on her knees and pressed a delicate kiss to his forehead. To her relief, she felt his arms circle her waist and he pressed her tightly against his bare chest.

“I know,” he murmured. “As would I.” His lips grazed her jaw, moustache tickling the delicate skin, and suddenly he laughed. “My my, what’s this here?” he exclaimed, delightedly. “I think a certain former Templar has been over amorous with you, my dear!”

“What?” Evie cried, and she pushed him away, twisting around to try and see the offending blemish. Dorian chuckled. Beside him, Maxwell mumbled in his sleep and rolled over but didn’t wake. “Show me where?” Evie asked. She summoned a wave of healing magic and Dorian assisted, guiding her hand towards a spot on the far side of her neck.

“Well, at least you had _some_ fun last night,” he grinned. “About time too, if I recall.”

“Tell me about it,” Evie muttered. She settled herself back down on the bed and Dorian pulled her close with an arm around her waist. His hand lingered thoughtfully on her stomach for a moment but he quickly snatched it away.

“Where is your strapping Fereldan hunk this morning?” he asked, with another yawn. “Does he not mind you crawling into bed with two exceptionally handsome men?” He winked and Evie nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

“He’s doing some training exercises,” Evie sighed, dreamily. “He actually asked me to leave, can you believe that? Apparently me staring at him luridly* is distracting. Please! He’s the walking definition of ‘distracting’.”

“He truly asked you to leave?” chuckled Dorian, his brow peaked.

“Well, not in those words,” she admitted. “He suggested I go and find something more interesting to do but I know he was trying to get rid of me.”

“Perhaps _you_ were distracting _him_ , my dear?” the Tevinter suggested lightly. “That gown of yours is rather… bosomy.”

Evie frowned and glanced down at her chest. “I guess so,” she shrugged, watching her breasts bounce with the motion. She looked back to Dorian, who was observing her with a glimmer of amusement in his flint-coloured eyes. “What?” she laughed, uncomfortably. “That look makes me nervous, Dorian.”

Dorian’s plump lips parted around a word but what it was, Evie never got to hear: it was drowned out by a loud snore from Maxwell, who rolled onto his back, mumbling incoherently in his sleep. The two mages exchanged glances, bursting into giggles.

“Nice to know some things don’t change,” Evie laughed. “He’s always snored like a bear. We used to share the same bed occasionally when we were kids.”

“Oh really?” smirked Dorian. “That explains an awful lot.”

Evie laughed. “No, not like that, you pervert,” she scoffed. “I was what… three?  Max would have been about nine. Winter in Ostwick is notoriously stormy and the thunder used to frighten me so Max would let me sleep in his bed with him.” She gazed across then, smiling at the sight of her brother sleep mussed and tangled in the bedsheets. “He was always my favourite sibling,” she murmured, softly. “Gabriel’s eleven years my senior and he just never had the time. And Selene… well, we’ve never really gotten along.”

The redhead huffed to herself. It was perhaps something of an understatement: Selene had always intensely disliked Evie, maybe even hated her. No doubt she’d been delighted when Evie’s magic had manifested at the age of eleven and she’d been taken off to the Circle. Max had cried, begged his parents not to let the Templars take her. “She’s just a baby!” he’d bellowed at them. Apparently, he hadn’t spoken to their parents for weeks after that day. Evie bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears at the memory.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Dorian murmured. “Are you – Kaffas, Evie, are you crying?”

“It’s nothing,” Evie whispered, quickly wiping at her tears. Dorian pulled her closer all the same, kissing her hair.

“Come, now,” he hushed her. “What brought this on?”

“Just old memories,” she sniffled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to have a sibling,” the Tevinter mused. “You clearly love him very much.”

“Damn right she does,” came a sleepy voice from beside them, making them both jump. Dorian cursed and Evie leaned across her husband to smack at her brother. Grinning, Max surfaced from the cocoon of bedsheets, his expression drowsy but playful.

“How long have you been awake?” Dorian frowned at his lover.

“Only a minute,” chuckled Max. “What’s got you all misty-eyed, Sis? Apart from your undying love for your favourite brother, of course.”

Evie snorted and she flashed him a flat sort of smile. “I was just thinking about the day I got taken to the Circle,” she replied, quietly. Maxwell’s expression hardened and his eyes glinted with something akin to anger.

“Ah, yes,” he muttered, darkly. He reached across Dorian’s lap and he took Evie’s hand in his own. “Never again,” he promised. “You know that, right?”

Evie nodded, a watery smile passing briefly across her face.

“Maker’s breath, you two are being awfully depressing this morning,” Dorian sighed, though the slight curl of his lip told Evie he was only teasing. “I’m going to use the privy. Do try to be entertaining for me when I get back, won’t you? I’m still very much indisposed and require all your fuss.”

“Need a hand gorgeous?” asked Max.

“I think you gave me enough of a hand last night, amatus,” Dorian purred, with a jaunty wink. Max laughed and Evie pulled a face.

“And on that note, I think I’ll leave you two to be disgusting _alone_ ,” she sighed, slipping off the bed. She aided Dorian to his feet and was about to make for the door when her brother stopped her.

“Stay,” he requested. “I want to talk to you.”

Evie glanced back over her shoulder, catching Dorian’s eye. The Tevinter merely shrugged and made his way carefully over to the washroom.

“Alright,” Evie murmured, as she heard the door click shut. “What’s up?”

She sat back down gingerly on the bed and Maxwell shuffled up next to her, yawning.

“So, last night…” he began. “Did you two…?”

Sighing, Evie nodded. “It’s done,” she murmured. “Only time will tell now. Though we should probably try it a few more times this week if we want to optimise our chances.”

“Makes sense,” agreed Max. He reached out and he took her hand in his exceptionally warm one. “Are you ok? I can’t imagine this is easy on either of you but you more so than anyone.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m scared, I guess.”

“That’s understandable. It’s crazy to think that, right at this moment, you could be growing a life inside you.” Max smiled softly and he moved both of their hands, resting them on Evie’s belly. “I quite like the idea of having a little niece or nephew,” he chuckled.

“Really?” Evie was surprised to hear that. “Even though Dorian would be the father?”

“I’m not saying it’s not a little weird,” the rogue shrugged. “Though we’re hardly a sterling example of normality thus far.”

“No,” laughed Evie, ruffling her brother’s already messy hair. “I suppose we’re not.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yes, that was a totally deliberate Zevran reference. ^_^


	11. An Odd Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian receives a strange request from his amicus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies guys, I've just realised it's another Evie and Dorian piece - I need to mix it up! I just wanted to write a little something to show that the wearing of Dorian's clothing was consented! Evie's not that cray-cray. If I have time, I'm going to write another little drabble for this chapter. Just to mix it up.

XI

An Odd Request

(Ties into Chapter XXXVII – Forbidden Desires)

 

Dorian left his lover to finish washing up, trudging lazily into the bedroom with his towel slung over his shoulder. Even after a long soak, he was aching. It was a sensation he relished, knowing where his man had been. It was vulgar, he knew, but he loved to feel that hot, persistent throb between his asscheeks, the warm trickle of his lover’s spend as it dribbled down his thighs. It made him feel coveted.

The mage wandered over to the room’s large wardrobe and pulled out the only garment of his own that he kept in there: a luxurious, silken robe. He slipped it on, relishing its cool touch on his heated skin. He had no desire to wear clothing to bed that night, longing instead to feel the caress of his lover’s flesh against his own. However, he also wanted a bottle of wine and he was not about to go wandering through the apartment with his cock on display. Oh, he could call for some, he supposed, but after spending a week recuperating – and being doted upon – he rather wanted to stretch his legs and do something for himself.

He’d just reached for the door handle when a hurried knock from the other side make him jump. Curious, he cracked it open and saw Evie standing in the corridor, looking flushed and excited.

“Are you decent?” she asked hurriedly, and her words escaped her in one long rush. Dorian raised a brow.

“Why yes, I suppose,” he declared. “What’s the matter?”

He stood out of the way of the door and Evie slipped soundlessly into the room. She was practically bouncing on her toes, thrumming with energy; Dorian was at a loss.

“I need a favour,” she murmured.

“You need only ask, amicus, you know that.”

Evie uttered a breathy little laugh then, running a hand distracted through her hair. “You say that now,” she chuckled. “It’s… an odd request.”

Now Dorian’s interest was most definitely peaked. “Go on,” he urged her, wondering what she could possibly want that inspired such a nervous response from her.

“The shirt you were wearing earlier,” she began carefully. “Did it… survive your little dalliance in the practise room?”

The Tevinter cocked his head in curiosity. “It was removed before we got too amorous, if that’s what you mean,” he smirked. “Why?”

Evie bit her lip and Dorian could sense her hesitation, as though she were rethinking what she were about to ask him.

“Will you let me borrow it?” she asked, slowly. “You’ll get it back intact, I promise.”

Dorian frowned. “Darling, you have a wardrobe full of my shirts in your room. You can borrow any of those.”

To his surprise, Evie blushed – quite extensively, too. “It would work better if it was one you’d worn,” she whispered, and it didn’t escape his notice how sheepish she looked.

“What would work better?” he asked, baffled. “Evie, is this some kind of spell you’re attempting because I must warn you-”

“It’s not a spell,” Evie was quick to clarify. She opened her mouth, sighed and then dropped down on the edge of his bed, shaking her auburn curls. Dorian sat down beside her, his curiosity almost unbearable. “Cullen’s just admitted that he’s attracted to you,” she said, quietly. The mage felt his heart skip a beat in his chest and he swallowed hard. He’d had an inkling… no, it was more of a fancy, he supposed. For some inexplicable reason, he’d wanted to think that the blush on the blonde’s cheeks whenever they spoke was more than just bashfulness. It made him feel suddenly giddy to hear that it was actually true. However, he kept that little perversion to himself; it seemed wrong to celebrate when Evie seemed… unhappy? He couldn’t quite decode that expression; she certainly wasn’t jumping for joy, though.

“Are you upset?” he asked her, cautiously. What if she somehow thought it was his fault? He supposed he had been _laying_ it on a little thick at times but it had been all in the name of fun. Mostly. Maxwell was just as guilty.

Much to his relief, however, Evie laughed. “Are you kidding?” she smirked. “You sound just like him! Maker, Dorian, it worries me when people _don’t_ find you attractive.”

“Ah, flattery,” he grinned. “Is that how you intend to get your way?”

“It’s not flattery if I mean it, silly ‘Vint,” she beamed, and she caressed his cheek fondly for a brief moment. “I… told him to come and talk to you about it,” she confessed, with a shy smile. “I hope that was alright?”

“I… of course,” he murmured, and he tried very hard not to think about how that conversation might have played out: Cullen making an angst-ridden admittance of his feelings, Dorian hushing him, pulling him close, telling him it was all perfectly natural whilst Maxwell watched from a shadowy corner, his green eyes blazing like veil fire… Maker, he’d read one too many trashy romance novels, he thought. However, he couldn’t deny the stir of interest beneath his robe.

“He refused, of course,” Evie went on, with a sigh. “He sees it as some great betrayal of our love, which is crazy but…” She shook her head. “He won’t hear a word of it. But I want to help him. So if he won’t come to you… I thought I might bring a little of you to him.”

“Alright,” said Dorian, slowly. “But what has that got to do with my… _oh_.” The Tevinter’s eyes widened as he realised precisely where Evie was headed with this. She winced, apparently expecting some form of reprimand from him. The only emotion Dorian could summon, however, was intense arousal, coloured with a little hint of awe. “You want to fuck him wearing my shirt,” he whispered, and Maker, his cock actually throbbed at the thought. Evie nodded and he groaned, throwing himself backwards on the bed. “Fasta vass, I think you’re trying to kill me,” he grumbled. Evie laughed.

“Am I to take it that means you aren’t thoroughly disgusted by the idea?” she asked, with a sly little smile.

Dorian glanced across the bed at her, his eyes narrowing and smirk of his own curling his lips. “That depends,” he purred. “Are you going to offer him an _authentic_ experience?”

He fixed her with a very pointed look and Evie lowered her lashes, giggling.

“Of course,” she replied, sweetly. “It would defy the purpose otherwise.”

Dorian couldn’t help the wicked grin that almost split his head in half and he laughed heartily. “Oh, Evie,” he chuckled. “You are, as ever, an absolute delight. Tell me,” he asked, rolling onto his side and keeping one hand on his robe to prevent it exposing him. “Have you done it before?”

Evie lips twitched and Dorian fancied she was biting her lip to keep from laughing. “I have,” she affirmed. “Never with Cullen, though,” she added, with a tiny crease of her brows. “It’s like it’s never occurred to him.”

The Tevinter smirked wryly. Of course he hadn’t. Most women already had two warm, tight and self-lubricating holes in which to stick it. Why bother with the effort of the third? Or at least, that’s what he imagined anyway. He was hardly a connoisseur of pussy so he couldn’t claim much insight into the average man’s mind.

“I have something that might benefit you,” he offered, and he slipped off the bed, padding around it to the nightstand on Maxwell’s side. “Here,” he announced, brightly, and he tossed her a little bottle of his favourite oil. “As I understand it, your special lady parts don’t require such assistance, so it’s like you won’t have any lying around?”

Evie did laugh then, loud and long, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not that way I’d have put it,” she laughed. “But you’re not wrong. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Dorian grinned. “You know I’ll want all the minute details tomorrow morning, yes?”

“I would expect nothing less,” she replied, graciously.


	12. Long Distance Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell and Dorian find a creative use for their sending crystals.

XII

Long Distance Love

(Ties into Chapter XLI - Another Farewell)

 

“I wouldn’t worry about it, love,” Maxwell chuckled. “There are few men who haven’t been there and done that. Evie’s pretty innocent; she doesn’t get it. She’ll be fine, though, once the shock wears off.”

The rogue stood in front of the mirror in his rented room, his eyes drawn to the glowing crystal resting against his bare chest. He heard Dorian chuckle and he couldn’t deny that, even through a magical pendant, his lover’s voice was every bit as alluring as it was face to face. He could practically feel the other man’s breath fluttering over his skin and, fuck, if it didn’t do things to him.

“Yes, well,” Dorian sighed. “I suppose you’re right. It’s quite possible I was feeling a little guilty for bringing it up.”

“Not your fault, gorgeous,” Max murmured. “You weren’t to know. No need to beat yourself up about it.”

“Hmm,” hummed Dorian, and Max bit his lip at the deep, reverberating sound. It was a noise the mage was prone to making in in other, more intimate situations and it had Maxwell stirring in his pants. Smirking, he sauntered back over to his bed and let himself sink into the surprisingly soft mattress.

“So, what are you wearing?” he asked curiously, as he lay back and began toying idly with the laces on his trousers.

“What?” laughed Dorian. “That was rather a jump, amatus, even for you. Why do want to know what I’m wearing?”

“Because I think you should take it off,” Max chuckled. “And I want to imagine what you look like doing it.”

He heard his lover swallow, heard the tiny huff of breath escape him, and he had to bite his lips to suppress a groan.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing first?” Dorian asked, and this time his voice was pitched low, sultry in a way that had Max’s body responding instinctively.

“Just my breeches,” Max replied, with a wicked grin. “But I can fix that for you, if you like?”

Dorian hummed with pleasure, the precise noise Maxwell had been imagining not moments prior. “Oh yes,” the mage purred. “Take them off. In fact, take everything off. The thought of you bared is incredibly arousing.”

“As you wish.” Never one to refuse a request from his lover, Maxwell obeyed, lifting his hips to shuck down his trousers and his smalls in one smooth motion. Knowing Dorian couldn’t see gave him a slight advantage and he settled for kicking them off hastily rather than something more elegant. They landed somewhere on the floor – Max could hardly care where – and he settled himself back on the bed, his eyes drifting down his body.

“Are you hard?” asked Dorian, his voice gravelly with want.

“Pretty much,” Max chuckled and his grin only widened when Dorian groaned. “What can I say, love?” he teased. “You just have that effect on me.”

“I assure you, I’m not immune to the charms of your voice either,” Dorian sighed. “Kaffas, Maxwell, we’ve only been apart since this morning.”

“I know,” the rogue laughed, if a little breathlessly. “But this is fun. Indulge me.”

“Do you want me to undress too?”

“No actually,” Max admitted. “I’ve changed my mind. I think I much prefer the image of you rumpling your lovely clothes. You can unlace your breeches for me, though.”

“Alright,” was Dorian’s reply, and Max could hear him wriggling around, heard the sounds of cloth on cloth and then the softest of groans, a noise that made him stiffen even more.

“Mmm, how hard are you gorgeous?” Maxwell wondered. “Tell me how you feel.”

Dorian huffed a laugh. “Honestly? I’ve been hard for a while,” he admitted. “Amatus, I-”

Whatever the mage had meant to say was swallowed by a shaky moan. Maxwell bit his lip, his eyes fluttering closed as he imagined his lover touching himself.

“Good?” he asked roughly, and his own erection twitched when Dorian gasped.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Maker! Maxwell, are you…?”

“Not yet,” he rumbled. “I want to wait until I can’t stand it. Tell me what you’re doing, love. And be nice and loud for me; I want to hear you.”

“I… I’m stroking myself,” Dorian whispered. “Maker, Max, keep talking, it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Really?” the rogue chuckled. “Well, in that case... how do you feel about a little instruction?”

Dorian made a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a purr and a whimper. Smirking, Maxwell took it as an emphatic ‘yes’ and he picked up the pendant, holding it close to his lips.

“Alright,” he said, firmly. “Then slow down, love. Let’s take this nice and steady.” He heard Dorian’s huff of frustration but he knew from the way his breath kept hitching that his lover had obeyed.

“I think you should follow your own directions and join me,” the Tevinter said, and his voice trembled ever so slightly as he fought to maintain control. Max bit his lip against a moan, his mind wandering back to the last time they’d just jerked off together. They’d been lying side by side, just watching, their movements perfectly mirrored. It had been so hot.

“Deal,” he agreed. His free hand was on his cock in an instant and he hissed with pleasure at the sudden and much needed friction. He was harder than he’d care to admit. Dorian’s laboured breaths on the other end of the crystal were certainly effective. “Alright,” he muttered. “Together. Nice and slow, now.” He began to move, setting a lazy pace that had him gritting his teeth. It felt good, yes, but it was nowhere near what he wanted. Maker, he could hear Dorian’s little huffs almost as if they were in his ear and it made him throb in his hand. He was intimately familiar with that particular sound; his mage was feeling impatient too.

“Amatus,” he groaned, after several long moments. “You’re killing me here. Give me a little more.”

“A little faster then,” Max relented. “And add that little twist you like so much.”

“Venhedis,” cursed Dorian. “Ah! Yes, that’s more like it…”

“Are you fucking your hand, gorgeous?” the rogue asked, trying to picture precisely how alluring the man might look then – breeches open, head thrown back, probably one hand tangled in his hair as he was so wont to do. Maker, Dorian never looked more beautiful than he did when he was coming undone and Max hated that he couldn’t see him.

“You know me so well,” Dorian laughed, his voice tremulous. “This might actually be nicer if I fetched some oil but I really don’t want to move.”

“No oil,” agreed Max. “Not fair. I don’t have any.”

“You don’t?” The mage sounded genuinely surprised at that and Maxwell snorted.

“I forgot to pack some, if I’m honest,” he admitted. “Fucking stupid, now that I think of it but no matter. Mm, this feels good. How you holding up?”

“Good,” groaned Dorian. “So good. Pity you’re not here to put that mouth of yours to good use.”

It was Max’s turn to moan at that, arching his back and flexing his hips at the very thought of sucking his lover off.

“That is a pity,” he gasped. “But seeing as I’m not… how about we try something else?”

Dorian’s hum through the crystal was distant, distracted and Max could actually hear their bed moving with the motions of his lover’s hips. It was tantalising and infuriating all at once.

“Dorian,” growled the rogue. “Get on your knees.”

“I can’t,” his lover panted. “Ah… I only just have my trousers open.”

“Then shove them down to your knees and kneel on the bed,” Max commanded. “Make sure that gorgeous arse is in the air.”

Dorian made a desperate, hungry noise then as he realised where Max was headed. The Marcher heard his lover moving around on their bed and then a beautiful little whimper issued through the crystal.

“Alright,” Dorian gasped. “Maker, you’re a demon, Maxwell. What do you want of me?”

Max smirked at that and he licked his lips, picturing just how breath-taking Dorian must look then, his hand round his cock and his ass in the air like a back-alley harlot.

“I want you to finger yourself, obviously,” Max commanded. “Just a little. I know you haven’t any oil so you’re going to have to get creative.”

The stream of breathy, Tevinter curse words that followed made Maxwell laugh, though it was a short-lived thing. He could hear his lover humming and the slick sounds of his mouth and tongue working around something – his fingers, no doubt. It was an incredibly alluring image.

“Shit Dorian,” he hissed, and he increased the pace of his hand just a little. “Do you have any idea how filthy that sounds?”

The chuckle he received in reply was low and licentious, stoking at the fire in Max’s belly.

“Naturally,” the mage purred. “Payback, I think, for being so wicked. Now, how do you want me to do this? I should warn you, once I start, I doubt I’ll be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” Max groaned, and he let the crystal drop back onto his chest at last. “Fuck, I want to hear you fall apart at your own hands. Do what feels good, love. Just let me hear you.”

“As you wish. I – ohhhhh.” The broken noise that Dorian made as he breached himself was exquisite. His breath came in little gasps and he moaned without reserve as he began to pleasure himself in earnest.

“That sounds good, gorgeous,” panted Max. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Dorian whined. “Ah! Better if it was you but, Maker, this is plenty good.” He moaned long and low. “Vishante kaffas, I need it faster Max, please!”

His use of ‘please’ was a pretty good indication of just how desperate the mage was getting. Taking pity, Max gave him the go ahead to increase his pace and he lay back and listened to the beautiful, wanton sounds that his lover emitted. His own hand began to move faster. He thrust into the motion, summoning the image of his stunning Vint beneath him. Dorian always looked so debauched when he was touching himself: hair falling out of place, moustache fraying at the ends, kohl just beginning to smudge with exertion. Groaning, Max kept that thought very much in mind as he trailed his free hand over his chest. His finger and thumb pinched at a nipple, making hiss and buck into his hand.

“Maxwell,” whimpered Dorian. “Maker… I don’t know how long I can keep this up.”

“Don’t hold back, gorgeous,” Max growled in reply. “Come when you’re ready. Shit, I’m getting close too…”

He swiped his thumb over the tip of his cock, smearing the fluid that had gathered there. It really wouldn’t take much; he could feel his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach. He could tell Dorian was getting close too. The pitch of his cries – not to mention the volume of them – would spiral to greater heights as he lost control. It had taken time and effort to encourage his lover to be noisy and, Maker, if it didn’t make him proud and incredibly aroused to hear the mage sob and beg and _howl_ in blissful agony. The sounds that were coming through the crystal went straight to his dick and Max snarled, tossing back his head.

“Fuck, Dorian,” he gasped. “You sound fucking incredible, do you know that? What I wouldn’t give to be screwing you into that mattress right now.”

“Amatus,” the mage panted. “Ah! I can’t… I’m going to-”

The sound he made as he came was closer to a sob than a scream – a raw, trembling noise that made Max’s stomach clench. He heard his lover gasping, cursing in broken Tevene, before his own completion rendered him senseless. Vaguely, he registered something hot and wet spattering over his torso but it was trivial in comparison to the pleasure that engulfed him like a blaze. Dorian’s name tumbled from his lips and for a moment, he could have sworn he felt the other man’s breath, hot and dewy, upon his neck.

When he next opened his eyes, however, he was quite alone – naturally. He could hear Dorian through the crystal, panting as he fought to catch his breath.

“You alright, love?” Max mumbled, and his voice was little more than a croak. Dorian chuckled.

“’Am I alright?’” he muttered, sounding breathless but amused. “Such things you ask! That, amatus, was rather spectacular. Maker’s breath…”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” the rogue grinned. He chanced a look down his body – at the mess that had coated most of his belly and was still leaking onto his thigh. “Probably should have thought to get a cloth beforehand though,” he added in a mutter. Luckily, his shirt was still on the bedpost where he’d left it and it was only a minor inconvenience to lean up and grab it.

“So how do you like your gift then?” he asked with a smirk, as he wiped himself off, balling up the shirt and tossing it into a corner once he’d done.

“I think they’re spectacular,” was Dorian’s reply. “Though there’s never a substitute for your company, the sound of your voice is a close second.”

Max heard the mattress creak through the pendant followed by a groan and the rustle of fabric.

“Ruined your pants?” he snickered.

“Quite,” came Dorian’s reply. “Not that I’m complaining mind you…” He trailed off then, his last word obscured by a long and weary-sounding yawn.

“Have I tired you out now, gorgeous?”

“I fear you have,” said the mage, drowsily. “It’s been a rather trying day.”

Max glanced down at the glowing crystal around his neck, toying with the delicate chain upon which it hung. “Well then, maybe it’s time to put these away and get some shut eye,” he suggested. “I’ve got to be up and on the road early myself.”

“I know, amatus,” Dorian murmured. “Thank you… for this. No-one’s ever gone to so much trouble for me before.

“You’re worth trouble,” smiled Max. “I love you, remember?

“I… love you too, amatus.”

**Author's Note:**

> Maker I'm headed straight to the Void for this...
> 
> What can I say? I had a smut demon. It needed exorcising. This is the result. ;)


End file.
